Perspectives
by MadeManX3
Summary: Remo Xenhon wants nothing more than to live a normal loser's life but in a world of gargoyles, wizards, secret societies, gods, and monsters, normal may only be a word to him anymore. For Mature Audiences Only. Reviews are not only allowed but encouraged.


Disclaimer: This story contains scenes of violence, vulgar language, and sexually explicit material. If you are under the age of 18, you are advised to stop reading immediately. This story is for mature audiences only. Ye be warned. Story is also based on the awesome works of Christine Morgan. The characters of Jericho, Aiden, and Birdie are all hers and being used with permission.

Perspective

Darkness. Starts the same way every time, every single time. The darkness all around me, in all directions. I try to feel my way around like a blind man frantically groping the surroundings, but there were no other enhanced senses to compensate for the loss of sight. I can't see, can't hear, can barely even think but I have to stave off the feeling of panic even as it grinds and gestates in the pit of my stomach, attempting to settle in my head. On my knees, feeling frantically for anything but it's as if my senses have all become numb. It's as if I've fallen in a pit of oil but so much worse.

At least I could know if I was drowning. Let it in. Let the foul, inky tar fill my lungs and send me into death's sweet embrace. I'm all but a few seconds away from curling up into a fetal position and weeping when it happens. Like clouds parting after a storm, light breaks through the darkness in rays before the dark is chased away by an angel of mercy. The dark, like a living entity as it coward away from this white haired goddess but the dark only retreated behind me as if I were it's unwilling master and captive while she was enveloped by the beautiful and almost blinding light that bring tears to my eyes but I don't dare look away. I don't even want to blink for fear she may disappear, her slender, nude form floating on nothing yet moving closer, eyes of sapphire beamed with nothing but kindness made me feel as though I could be lost forever in a single glance.

"...Echo..." He name on my lips makes me weak to just speak it. My voice lowers barely above a whisper. The dark ebbed away even more the closer she came, her beautiful body like that of a sculpture of perfect form although the Echo I knew would be clamoring to cover herself. That natural charm she always possessed shined through as she laughed at me.

"What?" I say in that tone of mock annoyance whenever she laughed at me like that.

"It's just funny that _you_ think I should cover up." Her eyes held so much innocents and yet so much wisdom at the same time. Even after nearly succumbing to the unknown, she's the only one that can give me the strength to smile.

"Well you're the one with tits exposed. Who always said if god wanted us to be naked, he never would have invented underwear." There were days I couldn't pay her to make love on the city rooftops where all could see us. The excitement got her to more than anything else but she still seemed so shy even with me, even though we'd done it everywhere else dozens of times.

Again, that heavenly laugh as her feet touched down to land squarely on mine and the darkness was kept further at bay.

"...Big words...seeing as how I'm not the only one..." She purred in a sultry tone as my clothes, my coat, boots, pants, everything melts away like an illusion like she simply wills it. My arms slip instinctively around her waist, smoothing my hands over the skin of her lower back, right down at her backside to squeeze her cheeks softly earning a coo from her soft lips; the warmth of her rubbed against my thigh making me groan in need.

"Take me Remo. No foreplay. No talk. Just ...take me." Kissing her as deeply as I ever had, our tongues explore one another as if for the first time, our hands doing the same to our bodies, moving with a knowing purpose. Obeying her, I move us both to the ground, or whatever is holding us up and nip at the soft flesh where her shoulder and neck connected, earning more moans and pleas from her to keep going. I cup her firm breasts and rub circles around them earning more coos and whimpers of pleasure.

I jerk a bit as I feel her hands grip me tightly and begin to torture me with long, achingly slow strokes. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me with all her strength and desperate for me to slake her lust. A wince as she continued to stroke me combined with the pleading look in her eyes and I can wait no longer, balancing myself as she pulled against me even more, pressed into her with one smooth motion. Our moans sounded off in a harmonious duet of passion although she forces me to hit a bit of a high note when she leans up to press her mouth against my ear, using her teeth to tug at it playfully before trailing down my chest. Biting my lip, I smile as I thrust into her slowly, building up the rhythm that always drove her wild.

I couldn't explain why but ever since our first time together, we always learned new things and wanted to try them on the other but prior notice would ruin the surprise. We'd suddenly spring things up on one another and that just made it all the more interesting and exciting, turning love-making into a game of one-upmanship and that was no different now, as we coaxed moans of pleasure and groans of delight with different tactics on one another but from the sounds of her quickened breath and tightening body, I was winning the first round. A smug smile on my lips, reaching down to stroke her clit and finally bringing her to the brink and beyond, tilting her head back and wailing into the nothingness, nails dig into my shoulder, leaving small welts in their wake. I give her a moment to catch her breath, slowing to a stop, smiling smugly in the manner she hated.

Her hands press against my chest, sliding over the numerous scars from battles long past but never taking her eyes off mine. She pushed harder, forcing me on my back. She breaks away and momentarily denies me her delicious warmth, our lips meet once more in another deepening kiss and as her fingers curl in my hair. She positioned herself over my length and engulfed it swiftly in one thrust.

"Oh! ...God...!" Now it was her turn to smile, sliding up and up until she was threatening to leave me bare once more and pausing. It's maddening the way she likes to tease, giving me just a taste of what I want but demanding I beg and so I do. In the form of whimpers and squirms that boosted her ego and extended her mercy, crashing down on me once more. She went on delivering hammering strokes then easing back up until she was closing in on her own orgasm.

My hands grip her breasts firmly and pinch the soft nipples before caressing their way to her back, past her hips, and over her firm backside, squeezing with every slow thrust. Enticing moans from us both, we slipping into ragged and shallow breaths as the two of us raced one another to the inevitable end. Her thrusts upon me are no longer alternating between fast and slow but are almost completely frantic as she claws my chest one final time before our mutual release, both of us yelling to the high heavens. She collapses against me, our bodies spent against each another, a sheen of sweat covering us both, I wrap my arms around her hoping this feeling would never end as we both struggled to catch our breath. I know it won't but I fight to deny it with every fiber of my being, with every power my meager soul may posses but it's all for nothing as Echo begins to lift herself off me.

"...Echo… stay... please, stay with me...please don't go." Literally begging her, ready to give anything just to feel her body against mine. She looked down on me with pity and a shade of remorse.

I try to not to think it, not to allow it to happen but it's too late. Her skin paled and the life in her eyes just ...drained away. The ethereal light that surrounded her form was devoured by the darkness that began to recede around me. I feel her body go cold and frantically shake my head in panic, trying to stave off what I know will happen next but it's too late. She falls limp against me, chunks of blood and bone splattering against me as she slumps against my chest, an enormous hole blown through the back of her head. Squeezing my eyes so tight, they burn with tears as I gasp, filling my lungs with air only to let it all out in a deafening scream as the darkness finally claims us both. "Nooo!!!"

I wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding a mile a minute, feeling like it's about to burst through my chest. My eyes go wide as my body jerks hard enough to fall out of bed and I'm back. Don't know why the hell I'm surprised anymore; it's not like this is anything new. I get up to greet the day the unmerciful bitch that she is. I work, go home, watch TV, sleep, and it begins again. I've had it, every night, ever since her death for the last two years. How have I not gone insane, you ask? Oh I found ways to cope when I could, ways to keep it at bay like getting drunk off my ass or so stoned out of my mind that it feels like my body is going to fall apart at the seams. I'm no stranger to pain, in fact there are times I welcome it as an alternative to having endure that horrible nightmare another night.

Same shit, different day and today will be no different as I heft myself out of bed and eye my apartment, if it could be called that; more of a room really. The paint on the walls had long since worn away, darkened by years of grim and grit. The floor, which once must have been red cherry hard wood, had splintered and creaked with the slightest movement. You could only imagine the fun I had walking around barefoot for the first time. The first bit of real work I ever put in to this place was covering the floor with thick carpet. The bathroom only had enough space for the two bare essentials, the toilet and toilet paper. The sink was just across from the bed and that was fine. I figured when I got the place to say goodbye to showers but it works for what I need it.

I grab a pair of dark sunglasses and slip them on as I lean against the frame of the one window I've got in this place. Anyone would say it's too cold out this time of year to be sleeping naked but this joint's got poor ventilation so while it's hell to keep cool in the summer, warmth was no problem in the winter. Double edge sword if I'd ever heard one.

"Mm, I live such a charmed life." My voice deep and raspy from just waking up, I step over to the sink and fill it with scolding hot water, taking off my glasses long enough to dunk my head in and swish it around, clearing my thoughts a bit. I take a deep breath coming out and shaking the loose beads of water from my short black hair. I catch my brown eyes in the dingy mirror and trace fingers over the scars and old wounds.

I know I shouldn't reminisce especially with such horrible nightmares but hard to ignore when they've left such obvious and permanent marks. Bullet holes, stab marks, and one particularly nasty scar that looked like a lightning bolt crossed from my right shoulder to my left hip. Some scars were left on more than just my body. Ah, those were the days, to be young and stupid again. I had to laugh at that thought of days back in the gang.

"Knock it off Remo. Sun's up. Better get started." I put my shades back on and get dressed.

Black cargo pants with a black short sleeve t-shirt, topping it off with black Lugz boots and grabbing my light trench coat to fling over my shoulder. Guess what color. The news is on with more reports of more Gargoyle sightings and Quarrymen gatherings. That's funny, I don't remember leaving the TV on. Doesn't matter; it's all a bunch of garbage that doesn't involve me anyway. Next thing you know, werewolves will want equal rights, vampires will want to vote, and fairies will determine the next presidential election. Whatever. I take all these reports with a grain of salt, but I swear if Darkwing Duck gets interrupted by one more damn news flash, I'm going to stab someone in the eye with a hot french-fry.

Idly eyeing the clock, it read 5:00am. Passing by the other apartment doors, I'm reminded why my apartment is so bearable. The place looked worse on the outside as it did inside; paint peeling off the walls, holes and tears where plaster or wood should be, parts of the ceiling missing, water pooling dangerously towards exposed wires from an outlet that's long since run out of power. The place is a dump but it's my dump. Making my way past the empty, dilapidated hallways, head up the stairs to roof access. Only a fool would take an elevator in this place. It stopped working years ago and people got tired of calling repairmen. The ones that were any good wouldn't come to this neighborhood and the ones that were brave enough couldn't do a damn thing to fix it. So people just stopped using it. Some kids thought it would be funny to take off the 'Out Of Order' sign and see what happened. I'll bet watching an eighty-year old woman fall to her death was hilarious. Ms Jenkins as I knew her, always visited her twenty-four year old son and complaining that he lived in such a rough neighborhood. So after that incident, they just took the whole thing apart and sealed the doors.

Walking through the roof access door, which was never locked, the rush of the cold morning air is there to greet me. Gravel crunches beneath my boots as I walk, hanging up my coat on an open pipe, venting heat from the landlord's spot. Slumlord was more accurate since the guy did nothing to keep the building in shape or the tenants happy so why should he be comfortable. Dorofey is his name, some dick straight out of Russia. The blockage would turn his apartment into a sauna so he'd turn on the air to cool off only to be reminded how cold out it was then try the heat again, being caught in a perpetual state shifting temperatures which will provided a bit of entertainment later on. For now, I need to focus on the task at hand. From here, you could get a pretty decent view of the lower east side slums. Most everyone was still asleep, even the crack heads and dealers.

Standing at the middle of the roof, I center myself, no easy feat considering he shaky effects the nightmares still had. I hate myself for a number of reasons but that I could be made so fragile because of a few stupid dreams topped the list; the workouts help so best to keep at it. I begin, moving in a straight line swiftly towards the imaginary opponent, aiming punches for the head and heart, packing every bit the power of a sledge-hammer in each strike. I bet the ancient Chinese masters that created Xingyiquan technique never figured some common street trash could handle it so well but I did and Jet Li's got nothing on me. Well, besides the acting career, the ten digit bank account, and eager fans who probably throw themselves at him, naked and willing.

Those thoughts only make me press on harder, this time picturing Jet Li as my opponent, the slant-eyed bastard. This lasted until 8am, the cold moring winds becoming nothing but an afterthought anymore as beads of sweat fell from my brow. The last hour into it, my fists slam into the unforgiving steel of an air conditioning unit. Unforgiving yet not unyeilding as it dented under the pressure. I continued to force the man made metal to give way, lashing out with unchecked anger, the blood pouring from my nuckles splashed against the steel with each blow, painting an abstract of pain and fury, unleashing my rage on the defenseless machine until I'm spent and the inanimate object gurggled and sputtered, unable to function any longer with the violently blood-splattered holes through the side of it. Strange that a sound of an air conditioner dying could make me smile but at least I didn't get my knuckles raw for nothing.

Speaking of which, looking down at them, I think I can actually see a bit of bone. Hopefully that's just the pain and exhaustion talking. Out of breath and muscles burning, I finally end it, letting my hands drop to my sides and giving my body a break though in return, it just screams promises of pain and misiery for me in the morning.

"Too late." I said." God…I could use a cigarette." The corner store should be open by now. Gathering up my coat, there's a satisfied smile when I lift it to hear the slumlord cursing up a storm as he frantically tries to figure out what's wrong with his heat. No one will believe a human could make the holes I just did in solid steel. Just need to come back and wash off the blood not that Dorofey cared much if anyone's heat were working or not but just to be safe.

The trip back to the apartment is a bit of a rough one, leaving small trails of blood as it dripped freely from my stinging knuckles. Maybe I overdid it today; doesn't matter now. All I can do is go through the motions as always, getting back and, after a quick wash, applied some disinfectant, too tired to do anything but wince as the liquid burned the wounds as it cleaned them out; after applying a bit of salve, I use the gauze from my aid kit to soak up what's left. Luckily there was no bone exposed so it was just my imagination. Wrapping them up with medical tape, I have to keep myself moving since my muscles refuse to be silent. I need smokes anyway, so it's off to the corner convience store.

Picking up two packs of Kools, I light one up on my way outside, palming my black skull Zippo. I take a deep drag and let it out slow. Of all the creations of god's green earth, the cigarette by far had to be one of the best. Better enjoy this one while I can. I should go back and change these bandages while I'm at it. Blood's starting to seep through already. "Yeah, definitely over-did it this morning. Damn if I don't need a sparring partner. Just the thought makes me laugh. "Pfft, yeah right. The last thing I need is another murder charge."

Taking the bus to the club, I get there early before my shift which was rare for me since I hate this job. Well not so much the job but the guy I work for. Club Powerline is one of the nicest places to party in SoHo and a far cry away from the shitty apartments I'm use to in the East Side. Three stories, all accessible to the customers, a place for the band at the bottom floor while cameras from every angle record them. Entire sections of walls were dedicated to showing them off so if you weren't on the bottom floor, you could still have the feeling of the band being right in front of you. Large dance floors on all three levels, bars and alchohol wall to wall so you didn't have to go too far to get good and drunk while being bombarded with tons of music from the fifty inch speakers in the corners, and three-hundred and sixty degrees of technicolor lights.

The levels got smaller the further up you went but the owner had turned it into a money making pyrimid when he'd managed to wrangle a few B and C-list celebrities into coming around and having a few drinks on the second and first to give the club the appearance of status. The further up you were in money and fame, the further up the club you went. My job is simple: I'm one of the numerous bouncers this place has which is kind of a switch for me. I'm used to being the guy that started trouble in places like this most of the time. It pays the bills for what it's worth even though the employee photos look way the hell off. Eighteen black bouncers, each one looking big enough to bench Shaq and I'm the only white face in the crowd.

I look scrawny in comparison, which put quite the low odds on my chances of even getting past the audition period just to see if I could hold my own. Well, after one faithful night involving two competing birthday parties that ended up getting too rowdy. A bottle was thrown and a fight between 23 people (11 on one side and 12 on the other) broke out and nearly made a donnybrook of the whole joint. Most of the usual security and bouncers were overwhelmed but imagine their surprise when they saw me, punching and kicking my way through the thick of it. It took twenty minutes to get the place under control again but by that time, I'd thrown most of the instigators outside and beat them so bad, they were begging to apologize; after that, I was on the team without another word. Most people would be pissed if they didn't instantly get promoted to security chef but I invested almost zero responsibility in this job when I can manage it, all because of one man…

"Remo!!!" A voice yelled loud enough to leave it ringing in the ears of anyone close to him. "What the hell are you doing here? You're out of your mind if you think I'm paying you fucking overtime!" I get too feet through the door before my head gets ripped of by the lanky man with the black leather pants, atrocious hairstyle and the poorest excuse for a silk shirt I've ever seen. Jesse Palmer is one of the managers of Club Powerline and likely the biggest asshole in all of Manhattan. Like I said before, if there's one reason I didn't take the job of security chief, it's this little weasel walking up to me.

"Got nothing better to do before my shift so I thought I'd come by and help set up." I say while taking another puff and blowing the smoke in his direction. Jesse and I have never gotten along and likely never will. He was one of the loudest voices against my employment, saying that breaking up one brawl doesn't mean I should be hired. When he lost that argument, he made damn sure my rap sheet got passed around and everyone knew I was an ex-con. If I had any other choice in employment, I would have gladly chosen a less irritable boss to work for but there aren't exactly a lot of options when employers hear you were a stone's throw away from being the head of one of the most notorious street gangs in Los Angeles. A black mark like that does not show well on a resume.

No, the club was one of the best places I could be because most of the security staff were in some kind of trouble themselves before hand and plus, I get all the free booze I can drink. Yeah, he's an asshole but he also doubles as one of the reasons I come in too. Just to annoy the living hell out of him.

"Put out that cigarette -Neo-. Only customers smoke inside. You need your fix, there's the back door. You're not clocking in early." A statement, not a question. "You work before your shift, you work for free."

The guy's small and not just in his height. A while back, I with a few other staff still fortunate to be here witnessed a pair of girls that barely looked eighteen running out of his private office laughing their heads off. Apparently he'd managed to get them through promises of meeting Brad Pitt.

Finally, after a few minutes of coaxing, he'd convinced them to start getting naked but when he joined in… well let's just say the girls could hardly keep their composure and ended up getting yelled out of the club, giggling the entire time while Nick chased them out, still trying to get his pants back up. He had a lot to compensate for from the looks of it, so he tried to be a big man when it came to employees. Ordering people around, tearing people's heads off when they screwed up, and basically doing everything to earn the title of world's biggest asshole. Those that stuck around after that little incident seemed to get it the worst because they knew the reason behind the attitude and you can believe the petty prick isn't anywhere above firing you for even mentioning it.

Jesse liked to aim his wrath on me most of all. Oh, don't get me wrong, there were the old days where I fumed whenever he yelled at me but after that incident, all I ever do anymore is take it in stride and grin whenever we talk. I know, and he knows that I know, so it infuriates him all the more and finally made work more bearable. He hated me and truth be told, I thrived on that.

"Yes boss, no problem boss." I said simply while putting the cigarette out, still grinning, causing Jesse to glare at me.

"Start setting this shit up! Restock the bar and set up the chairs on the first level, then you come back down and restock the bar here, then head back up to first level and switch out the speakers with the ones here on the third." I don't bother getting annoyed or upset that those instructions don't make any sense. Nobody wanted to be around Jesse when he got like this, except me. I know he's trying to punish me but physical labor is something I'm used to, although it makes my back ache just thinking of having to lug those fifty inch amps up and down three stories of stairs but I don't let it show. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Still in my face, he makes sure to speak low enough this time so only I can hear him.

"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face, _convict_." The word said with so much venom, it could poison you if you stood too close but I grin even wider and speak in the same low tone.

"Nah, I don't think so. _Shorty_." I shot back, both of us staring the other. His fists clench, wanting to throw a hook at me bad enough to sacrifice his job over it. It was times like these that make it worth getting up in the day. I wait to see if he's actually got the balls to go through with it this time around, the heat of the moment drawing a few stares but I'm disappointed to see him back off as always, still heated but forcing himself to calm down.

"…Get to work…" He uttered through clenched teeth just before giving me another dose of his evil eye and walking back to his office to cool off. When I was by myself, smoking outside like he said, Jesse would berate me with as much ire as he could muster and it happened to be a lot; insults about my sexual preference, where I lived, and my lack of family. I let it slip to one of the staff once that I was born on orphan. I admit I was using sympathy to try getting into her panties (which I failed in doing, getting stuck in the damn 'friend zone') but she told someone and they told someone and eventually it ended up getting back to Jesse and he used it like a weapon to taunt me with constantly. Unfortunately, my lack up caring took the wind right out of his sails although it didn't stop him from fitting in a remark here and there.

"Why do you do that?" A female voice said from behind me. I smile knowing whom it belongs to.

"Do what?" Said with an innocent shrug as I turned around to greet the blue haired beauty in front of me.

"Don't give me that, Xenhon. You know exactly what the hell I mean. You antagonize him like that and you know he's going to fit you with all the work." She said putting her hands on her very nice hips. "And why do you constantly wear those sunglasses inside and out, day or night?"

Here was another reason I came here everyday. Melissa was her name and she had to be the most fun this place ever had. She'd come to New York seeking fame and fortune as an actress but her dreams fell through after she teamed up with a touring musical act. She was the only talent the act had but the rest of the play was so terrible, the critics tore it apart along with every member of the cast. It was too bad since she actually had some skill in acting and singing, just not in decision making when it came to choosing gigs.

"I know. Why the hell do you think I come to work every day? It's not always just to look at you, ya' know. Your tits are nice but not that nice." Which was a lie. Her breasts were as gorgeous as the rest of her. From the way she laughed, she saw right through me. "And I believe I answered your second question a while back."

"Yeah but you fed me some line of bullshit about being mugged and having your eyeballs sliced with a stiletto." She paused and gripped her breasts. "And speaking of bullshit, as many times as you tried to get your hands on these big guns, all you _can_ do is jerk off to the thought of them, bitch." She said with sly grin on her ocean blue lips, having lipstick to match her dyed hair.

"Awww, it' almost flattering that you think about me jerking off but I'm afraid the only one you're flattering is yourself, babe." She's one of the only people who can see past the gruff exterior to the guy I am. Hey, I may be a cocky, hot headed, hard drinking thug but underneath all that, I'm a cocky, hot headed, hard drinking thug with a heart. You just have to weed through the crap to see it and there's a lot of crap. Melissa is smart, funny, and actually gets it that when a guy passes by and says 'nice ass', she's being given a compliment. We became fast friends when I applied. We get ourselves under control after a small fit of laughter.

"Alright Mel, what we got for tonight?" Said since we still do have work to do.

"Looks like a crowd of spoiled rich kids this time around." Said while giving me a swift punch in the arm. She hates it when I call her Mel. Sounds too much like Mel Gibson or Mel Brooks, she said to me once.

"Worst part being?" I ask since I can hear in her voice that there's more.

"Their foreign. Some Dutch, some Belgium, mostly all out of Europe, a lot out of Amsterdam." I wince while walking over to the bar counter to grab the key to the liquor closet. I step around, over, and past the other technical staff while they rearrange wires, connect cords, and strap down equipment. I check what's running low and needs to be replaced, grab a crate and the key and get moving as she talks.

"Ugh, you gotta be kidding me." Not that I have anything against foreigners or even spoiled rich kids since the most that happens is a drunken altercation because of a language barrier but the combination of being born with a silver spoon in your mouth and having an accent the girls (or in some cases, guys) go wild for. You get a bunch of arrogant, self-absorbed, egotistical brats who believe that God himself should kiss their feet. I've run into these types many times and haven't met a face yet that I didn't want to punch.

"I don't think I can handle this tonight, 'Lissa." I said calling her by her nickname.

"Well if we've gotta handle it, then so do you, Remo. You know damn well we can't take a lawsuit right now if someone hauls off and damages one of those million dollar faces. You're the only one on the roster tonight that can show a little restraint." She follows me to the far end of the club leading behind the stage. Where the amps and instruments would be set up, there were a couple of doors apart from one another; one being the exit and another leading to a small flight of stairs to the basement of the club. Inside, I flip on a light switch to reveal long metal shelves, filled with random assortments of alcohol from beer, whiskey, and tequila to expensive wines and bottles of champagne. One of the reasons the club was so popular was that they had liquor for every occasion but as I pick one up, she pauses and looks at the bandages on my knuckles.

"Remo, what happened to your hands?" A look of concern on her face but I avoid the question and keep stocking.

"Restraint? You're joking?" I said sarcastically while gathering what bottles I could in the shopping cart kept next to the door and handing her the crate. Never know when you needed to do a major run and it just wasn't fast enough to carry them by hand.

"…No." She said, sensing I didn't want to share right now and letting the subject drop. "If I were joking, I'd start my sentence off with 'there once was a man from Nantucket', but since I'm not, I would suggest we need you pretty badly tonight." She said while helping me grab what I need, sending a few bottles my way. However, little does she know, she's given me an opening as I slide up close to her, a grin on my lips.

"Oh? You…-need- me…huh?" She raises an eyebrow, as I get closer, seeing her self in the reflection of my shades and calling me out, pressing her body against me.

"Well… yeah. We need you _bad_. Right here. Right now." She said in a sultry tone, standing so close I could feel the heat from her skin. I didn't need to remove my shades see the come hither look in her eyes as I close in for a kiss. However, I'm stopped short as she shoves a bottle of Crown Royal into my stomach, forcing me to back off a step.

"Men are so easy. Let's go _lover boy_, you got work to do." Grabbing a few more bottles, she sauntered out of the room, leaving me there to try to get me other head under control. The uncomfortable bulge would not make the trip back up an easy one.

Five hours later, my bones are still feeling sore and it's almost time for my shift to _start_ but I got everything done that jackass asked for and none too soon. The crowds were starting to pile in, at least the ones trying to pay their way past the doorman. Fortunately it wasn't me tonight; with the way my apartment's falling apart and the damage to my knuckles, I need all the cash I can get my hands on these days but we don't need any customers that might prove to be confrontational and like Mel said, the last thing the club needed was a lawsuit. The music was pumping and the multi-colored lights coming up with the flip of a switch.

The heavy vibrations from the fifty-inch speakers at the four corners of each level caused a subtle earthquake as the bass from Blade's Bloodbath blared (try saying that five times fast). The bars illuminated to show the party-goes they would not be in short supply of alcohol this night. Tables and chairs set up with care around the edges of the club so as not to obstruct the nearly oversized dance floor. The security staff and I were positioned where they needed to be to keep things calm as well as allowing people to have fun by staying out of their way.

One thing I have to say about Jesse, he's an asshole but he runs a tight ship. One of the only things I'll have even the smallest amount of respect for him. It only took a half hour for the place to fill up with reserved guests and those that slipped Zack, the current doorman, a large enough tip but still no sign of the rich kids. Doing my walk around the floor, I keep an eye out for the usual: pick pockets, tip thieves, and people trying to walk out on their tab.

Still, the stars of the night had yet to arrive and nothing had happened yet so I decided to sit down for a drink. Luckily, Mel was working the bottom floor tonight like me so I waded my way through the crowd and pulled up a stool at the end of the bar.

"Don't tell me you're getting bored already." She said when she finally found a spare moment to talk to me. Aside from having a great body and killer smile, Melissa was also a damn good bartender.

"Nah, just waiting for the rich dummies to show up. Then things'll get hectic." Said while downing the shot of Crown Royal she poured me. It's gotten to the point I don't even have to ask anymore although she does like to randomly surprise me. I may be drinking vodka one night, then tap water the next.

"Oh you know you love it. You sit here trying to act like you _don't_ enjoy getting into fights. I remember you first…audition and you were anything but angry. In fact, it looked as though you were having the time of your life." I smile remembering that night and the looks on the staff's faces but it fades a bit.

"…Not anymore. Well…not _too_ much anyway. You know how it goes. I gotta stay clean or I'm back in an eight by nine cell for the rest of my life." Detective Maza would make sure of that.

Let me make one thing very clear: I hate cops. I hate cops and they hate me and I'm fine with that. In fact, I'm used to that kind of symbiotic relationship. Ever since my fall from grace or ascent to the angles or whatever you would call it, the cops have been on my back constantly, looking for any foul play or wrongdoing or any excuse to throw me in jail although I can't rightfully blame them. What I did cheated the glory-seekers out of a career-making bust and made me a marked man on both sides of the law but Eliza Maza seemed to have something against me most of all though I can never figure out why.

"Yeah, I know but where else can you legally kick ass, drink for free, and enjoy all the free music you want besides here…and maybe the UFC." She said while pouring me another drink but I scoff.

"Please. The UFC fighters are a bunch of pussies these days with all the new rules and regulations they got. Shamrock and Ortiz wouldn't last a minute in a real street fight. I could…" My words are cut off as I hear the crowd begin to pause and look towards the doors. I can hear in my walkie-talkie that the guests of honor have finally showed up.

"Looks like my break's over." Said as I down the second shot of whiskey. "The rich brats have finally arrived and they'll be expecting someone to wipe their asses for them."

"Give 'em hell, Reaper man." Melissa smirks and waves me off. She's about the only one I talk to at any length around here since she's hot for one and she wasn't afraid of me when I first arrived for another. When Jesse passed around my list of committed crimes and felonies, most of the staff avoided me like the plague, except her. It was weird when she first began talking to me since, at the time, I was in the process of accepting that I was going to be an outcast in everything I did when she offered me a drink. I put on my usual gruff exterior, attempting to push her away but she kept coming back and talking to me. At first I thought she had some kind of strange fetish for abuse but soon saw she was just being friendly. I've suspected people of wanting something from me for so long, I'd forgotten what genuine kindness looked like. Soon, the others opened up and stopped treating me like a leper but I stayed good friends with Melissa despite the face she still won't sleep with me.

Turing my attention to the front entrance, I see them finally walk in. A blonde haired twenty-something guy with piercing blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and a lean muscle build was the center of attention. Like you might expect, he was decked out in the most popular designer clothes money could buy, somehow managing to make a white shirt with a frilly collar look good. His nose upturned, as though this were the most boring place on earth and yet everyone here was lucky to have been graced by his presence, wearing more make-up than a few of the females by his side. Surrounded by an entourage of the equally sharp dressed with attitudes to match, I wasn't expecting them too soon since they always had to be fashionably late and cause the biggest ruckus. Am I jealous? You're damn right I am, because these kids don't know what they have so they waist it.

Never the less, I still have a job to do and I do it, making sure they were escorted directly to the first level up top, only managing to make it there after the appropriate amount of gossiping and socializing, they sat down at the private booth set up for he and all his crew. No dancing or having fun for this group. No, they were just oozing cool simply being part of the scenery.

For a time, things are going well; people having fun and getting drunk, basically having a good time until of course there's another set of rich kids roll in. Same set up with the clothes, the entourage, and the attitude only the ones that walked through the door were Asians.

"_Everyone stay sharp. The Ho Brothers that just walked in_." Zack said over their radio walkie-talkies.

"What's that mean to us?" Said while eyeing them mingling with the crowd. I never pay much attention to names since I don't really care who they are.

"_The Ho brothers, Remo. Don't you watch the news?"_

It took a moment for the name to jog my memory but I remembered a news report from a random morning. Calvin Ho, Clarence Ho, and Cary Ho are three of the biggest premadonnas on the entire island. They've got their hands into a little bit of everything; stocks, clothes, the electronic industry, even said to be in talks with Bill Gates for a new kind of computer chip but they've also gotten into a few illegal dealings across the country, or at least that's the rumor.

I can guess they paid good money to keep their names out of the ring so if anyone working for them got caught, then they had plenty of deniability. None of that concerns me at the moment but because of those reasons, the trio seems to think their tough. That they can take anything they want. A smile creeps on my face at the thought of them causing trouble since it had been a slow week. I was good at my job but unfortunately, doing a good job meant people were less eager to cause trouble when they see the results of what could happen to them but these guys didn't care, thinking they could do as they pleased with their bodyguards around. It was always fun to prove them wrong.

Only a half hour passed before it happened and it always began with something simple. Currently sitting at the bar on the second level for tonight for a bird's eye view, I down another shot of whiskey as I watch one patron dance a little too close to the group, some poor guy in a fake Armani suit on trying to impress some lovely blonde number in a aqua blue tank top and matching skirt. The guy looked as though he were doing pretty well and might be getting some tonight, that is of course until he bumped into Cary Ho and knocked his drink to the floor. Cary was the smallest of the three but seemed to be the most temperamental for that very reason.

The guy apologized profusely but barely got a few words out as Cary grabbed him by the shirt collar and shoved him to the floor. A few people got out of the way and some just decided to leave entirely. Two of the security team got there first, Marcus and Malcolm, each six foot five and three-hundred and fifty pounds of muscle wearing the black t-shirts with the club's logo on the back and SECURITY in white bold on the front.

"Excuse us gentlemen, but there's no violence allowed in the club." Malcolm said politely over the music as it came to a lull between tracks. The Ho's had at least six bodyguards with them, three heavy set, muscle bound men that were there mostly for intimidation and three others dressed to blend in with the crowd.

"Fuck off cornbread! This is a personal dispute." Said Cary, much to the amusement of his brothers, especially when their own guards got up from their seats but Malcolm kept an even tone and calm demeanor while ignoring the insult.

"We're going to have to ask you to leave. Now." Despite his even temper, even Malcolm was getting annoyed with this set but his policy was always polite manners first, much to my chagrin. The guards surrounded the two of them but both Malcolm and Marcus kept their wits.

"Since this has been such an inconvenience, everything you've ordered is on the house. Since you seem like such happy and generous people, don't even worry about the tip." The brothers thought it amusing, laughing as none of them made a move to leave. I always believed Malcolm much too polite for this job sometimes.

"We're not done with our drinks yet, _Shaft_." That was about all Malcolm could stand, snatching the small, glass table away with enough speed to throw the half-filled glasses off the table and into their laps.

"You finished now?" Clarence, wearing a white ensemble of slacks, expensive shoes, and a fancy dress shirt got in Malcolm's face, not willing to be embarrassed in front of a crowd especially by some minimum wage mall security reject. His bravery counted more on the fact his own guards circled behind them.

Feeling bold, Clarence reared back and gave Malcolm a knee to the crotch. Cary, wearing all black in some type of Yin/ Yang attempt, came up smashed him in the back of the head with one of the thicker glasses that previously landed in his lap, forcing the big man to a knee. Marcus tried to jump in but was prevented from doing so when a large arm crossed his neck and clamped down while another twisted his own behind his back

The crowd around them withdrew into a semicircle around the commotion. Seeing Malcolm go down is about all I can stand, speaking into my radio over the comments and alerts of what I just saw.

"Everyone else stay clear. I'm going to handle this set myself." As if he sensed me, Jesse starts screaming to the other staff to take care of it, ordering me to back off but I'm already on the first floor and moving through the crowd. "Sorry boss, say again?" I ask just before I cut him off mid-insult. I know I'm getting an earful after this was done but I needed to relieve some stress.

Calvin, the eldest, managed to palm a bottle of Hennessy to break over Malcolm's head next when I get between them and shove him back after I snatch the full bottle from his hand, nearly taking him off his feet. My sudden appearance prompts one of the other behemoths twice my size (in part because of his afro) to step forward but his attempt to grab me failed as I throw a hard chop into his throat.

Luckily, the sight of their larger bodyguard collapsing to the floor, clutching his neck and gasping for air got them to back down but only a few moments. Marcus was freed, removing the offending arm and shoving back it's owner, he moved to help up Malcolm.

"Go patch him up." I said to Marcus who shot me a glare. He knew what I was about to do and I couldn't very well blame him for wanting a crack at these punks but from the look of all the blood on Malcolm's face, he couldn't make it to the back office alone.

"Go. Patch him up. Now." Said in a tone I rarely ever use with one of my own but now is not the time for arguing so Marcus reluctantly carries Malcolm to the back room where they have a first aid kit while I turned back to the group, currently in the course of sitting one of their own in a chair, still trying to catch his breath after the shot to his windpipe.

"You want to be leaving. Right now." The only warning I would give apparently falling on deaf ears, the two burly figures left standing positioned themselves between the me and the three brothers, almost towering over me, and laughed. One of them a bald guy reminiscent of Stone Cold Steve Austin and the other with braids and a loud lime green t-shirt that strained your eyes to look at.

"What, because of a lucky shot? Fuck off 'fore you get some of the same." Taking a step forward, one of them rears back and sends a hard right hook across my jaw but I have to suppress a smile at the looks of astonishment on their faces when my shades don't even fall off my face.

"You know," said after I do a quick check to make sure he didn't loosen any teeth, "I was planning on doing this anyway... but thanks for giving me a reason." They paused to stare back at me in confusion just before my fists do a double whammy and slam into their eye sockets simultaneously. As for the Ho brothers, a bit of their confidence and arrogance seemed to drain away in that instant but the crowd was watching so they try to stand their ground.

The lumbering pair yelled in pain, I split them further apart, kicking baldy in the side and kicking braids in the family jewels so hard, it lifts him off the floor as if he jumped. The Ho's all winced along with the rest of the male crowd that could see the brawl.

Braids lands on his knees with clenched teeth and hands over his pants as if that would make the pain go away. Deciding to oblige him, I take two steps to get up a bit of momentum and send a jump kick straight to his skull. The force of the blow sends his head straight through the glass base of the bar, denting the steel interior, knocking him out.

Sounds of heavy footsteps behind me say that baldy is back on his feet. I turn just in time to see him swinging a bottle of Jack Daniels my way. The top is off and he's spilling it all over the place. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a waist of good booze.

He swings the bottle in a backhand but misses. Tries to bring it down on me but I move forward, hooking my arm into his shoulder, causing the blow to glance harmlessly off my back. My other arm rises to hook between his legs and, to the astonishment of the crowd, manage to lift him into a fireman's carry just before flipping him hard on his back to the top of the bar. Luckily that portion was hard plastic or it would have shattered from all the weight.

A backspin kick to his stomach sent him sliding down and off the top like something out of an old western-style bar fight before he could pick himself up. Some in the crowd close enough to hear wince at the sickening crack of his ribs. Those two down, I turn my attention back to the Ho's but someone from the crowd yells to watch out.

Quickly turning back to the bar, it seems afro man recovered from the shot to the throat and swung a broken beer bottle for my neck as he leaped on top of the counter, over his fallen comrades but the bottle breaks into pieces on my arm when it's brought up to block. Multiple stinging sensations fill my hand and wrist as he broken shards pierce the skin but I ignore them, throwing a hard right cross to his midsection.

The guy froze like the wind was knocked out of him in that one opportunity so I grab him by his greasy hair and nearly pull him off the bar head first, only to bring his chin low enough to hit him with an uppercut that throws him back and into the wall of alcohol that would usually be behind the bartender. A welcomed sight for those looking to get hammered, it served as afro's landing pad as he went through several glass crystal shelves before he hit the ground. If the hit didn't knock him out, the bottles that fell on his head as a result surely did.

Three down, three to go, thinking to myself as I turned back towards the brothers who were looking more and more nervous but still defiant, glanced over into the crowd as if someone there were going to help them. Looks can certainly be deceiving as three other bodyguards stepped up but these didn't look like the ones on the floor, all muscles and no brains. No, they were for intimidation but these next three were slim and compact.

Rippling, lean muscle was concealed underneath baggy shirts and jeans, one with dreadlocks, another wearing shades like mine, and the third in an a shirtless white vest brandishing brass knuckles. Unlike the first set of bodyguards, these men were fighters to the highest degree and any other time in place, I'd give them respect but for right now, I glanced at Melissa, who was watching from a safe distance and tapped my wrist.

She gave me a look of aggravation before rolling her eyes and switching her watch to the timer. Respect has to be earned after all and fighting as hired guns for the likes of the Ho Brothers earned them none at all from me.

Moving farther from the bar, I crack my neck, nice and warmed up now and plant my feet thinking that three against one hardly seems fair but I'll give them the first shot so that buys them a fighting chance. For a moment, it looks like an old fashioned showdown; the rest of the crowd faded away to silence and the only thing missing was tumbleweed rolling by.

The calm was over in an instant as the three charged; wasting no time in one on one bouts, they attacked all at once and with surprising precision, striking out with lighting quick speed and moving almost as one. I was wondering if these three were going to fall all over themselves to get at me but no such luck. They've done this before and many times it would seem since it took skill to triple-team someone this well.

However, as good as they were, the three of them only came up to mediocre even working together as far as I can see. They receive a few more years of training and experience and they could give me a real challenge, but not tonight.

A few moments of blocking and dodging are all I need to see their weaknesses, throwing a few hard punches of my own straight to their joints. My fists feel like they're on fire, nerves screaming in agony each time my knuckles impact flesh and bone but ignore them as always.

I uppercut dreadlocks in the armpit almost hard enough to knock said arm out of it's socket, causing him to recoil in pain and clutch the sensitive area. Next is shirtless coming from my right with a jab but he quickly regrets the move when his hand is caught and bent at the wrist at a not-so-natural angle, making him scream at the crack. Then, there was the Blade reject with the grocery store-bought shades; a spin kick from him went wide over my head, giving me an opening. Planting a hard boot into his kneecap that sent him stumbling back.

Had to give them credit for fighting through the pain, for all the damage I inflicted, they kept coming, trying to surround me and make it more difficult to be on the offensive but this has gone on long enough. I force dreadlocks in the middle off balance, planting a hard kick to the underside of his kneecap, forcing him to limp. As two on either side of me close in, I duck down, hoping they were close enough to nail one another but regardless, my coat slides off effortlessly and I wield it like a matador in the bullfight of his life, spinning around and twirling the dark cloth in their like a faces like a ghostly shadow until they were throwing blows at it more than me.

Finally, they had to pause to get distinguish one target from another; the confused look on their faces may as well have been a bulls eye. Slipping my coat back on with ease, I put some weight into a roundhouse square in the chest of dreadlocks that would probably leave a Lugz boot print in his skin for the next few days. He was sent off his feet and into a clutter of chairs and barstools, hitting his head on the way down.

Grabbing shades by the wrist, I driving an elbow into his throat, he spat out blood just before being pulled into a clothesline that sends him down like a bag of rocks.

Last was shirtless, who didn't seem to learn from his comrade's mistakes, throwing a punch with the one good hand left but it was too hasty and rushed, striking more out of anger and it was easily caught. As he doubled over from a knee to the gut, I hook both his arms behind his back and pull them swiftly together at the shoulder. I had to note this one was not as tough as I thought when he screamed so much louder than the others, especially when all I did was dislocate both his arms. What a wimp.

Letting him drop to the floor in a heap, I turn back to the instigators of all this raucous but they were gone. The brothers apparently took off as soon as the second half of their goon squad was taken down.

"Bunch of pussies." It was a disappointment to finally get warmed up but then your playmates leave even if the crowd were cheering me. For a moment, I think of switching on my radio but already know Nick is likely screaming my name in the middle of a plethora of profanities so I decide against it.

I'm trying to convince myself that the abuse would be worth it as I look over the strewn out bodies and the once-beautiful-now-ruined glass bar and counter but they were the small fry but a few moments later, the big fish get hauled back in on three-hundred and fifty pound hooks in the form of the other security team members.

All beaten and bloody, the Ho brothers no longer looked high and mighty. Quite the opposite as tears streamed down Cary's cheek along with blood from his nose and mouth, looking like a small child in Malcolm's arms, grasping him by the throat and still very sore about what he did to Marcus. Clarence was flinging insults, still trying to act big despite the fact he was struggling in vain to get out of a half nelson. As for Calvin, he was apologizing profusely for his brother's behavior and begging not to be hurt.

Walking up to them, the smug smile on my lips couldn't be sliced off with a scalpel. I size them up, walking by each and looking over their designer, tailor made clothes. Of all the people that walked in as if they owned the place, these three had to be some of the worst. Glancing back at the bar and damage to it, I look back at them.

"So…cash, check, or credit?" As usual, I just get blank stares that need explanation. "Boys, there's a lot of damage here because of you and someone needs to pay for it." Clarence shot back with the expected answer.

"Fuck you! We're not paying you shit! We're gonna burn this fucking place down along with all these dumb nigGrgh!" His sentence was cut short when Malcolm punched him in the kidney. Clarence said no more, concerned now with gasping for air and staying on his feet. Melissa came down from her perch on the second level to join us, giving me a dirty look as she surveyed all the damage and took out a pocket calculator. I shrug at her but it just gets me more evil eyes so I turn back to the brothers.

"As far as what you owe, there's the table and the bottles of booze you broke or wasted, the damage to the bar plus all the glass shelves, and the broken beer tap your man over there hit on the way down. What's that come to Mel?" Said as I glanced back at her, ignoring the astonished looks from the three brothers since most of what I named was destroyed in the fight but none of them bold enough any longer to call me on it.

A few seconds of number crunching on the keypad before she spoke. "Looks to be about…a little over twelve grand." Stuffing the calculator back in her pocket as the brothers gawked in disbelief.

"Damn. That was cheaper than I was hoping. Well you heard the lady. Twelve k each should make everything square. Especially…!" I yell over them before they can start to protest. "…Since all you'll be paying for are a new bar, a few drinks and a little aggravation. Especially when these nice gentlemen holding you up really want to take you out back and beat you 'till you can never walk again. Why do you think the cop's ain't here yet?" Spoken low enough so only they heard me, there was dead silence from all three this time, putting it together and realizing they may be in a world of trouble.

"So the question remains. Cash. Check. Or credit? I know high-rollers like you carry checkbooks and plenty of credit cards so don't make us have to search you." The staff let go of them but stayed in close proximity in case they tried to run.

Calvin took out his checkbook and wrote out the sum immediately, while Cary and Clarence were nearly laid out a second time when they tried to get past the staff and to the door. As if they had no fight left, the last two finally produced the goods, taking out Visa and Master cards. Snatching up all three, I handed the cards to Melissa who swiped them and tossed them back.

"Pleasure doing business with you boys. Guys, outside please." The security staff grabbed them up and carried them out into the front parking lot. I followed just behind, making sure to move away from the gathering crowd. "Nothing to see here folks, just a little ruckus inside. Enjoy your night." Once we got a safe enough distance, I reached into the brother's pockets and took their wallets.

"Since I know such fine, upstanding gentlemen like yourselves wouldn't do something petty like not pay your debts, we're going to keep things in good faith and say there's no hard feelings. However, just in case my assessment is wrong, we'll be keeping your I.D. just to make sure everything gets paid for. A few cop cars finally pulled up, lights flashing but no sirens as requested. I could kiss Melissa some days.

"Looks like your ride's here. Take care guys and hey, don't be so angry. There's always surgery and pumps for Asians too." The brothers were handed to the uniformed officers by the staff, Marcus keeping a cool demeanor and explaining everything.

Well, not everything since they didn't need to know about the threatened payments the Hos so generously made to pay for the damages. They'd need a paddy wagon to take the guys out from the inside still on the floor but none of them were hurt bad enough to need an ambulance. Once Marcus was done explaining to the police and giving a full report, he walks up to me, looking a little upset.

"Don't start." I said, knowing full well he wanted to chew me out for sending him away from the brawl. "Jesse's already got a stick up his ass from earlier today and no one else needs to get on his bad side along with me." Letting the subject drop after a few moments, he sighed and nodded.

"Malcolm's cut up pretty bad. May need some stitches but doesn't look like he has a concussion or anything. Just his pride that's hurt, not his head." One thing about Marcus, he didn't say much but when he did, it was something that mattered.

"Good." I give a relieved nod and tilt my head at the walkie-talkie on his belt. Taking it in my palm, I hesitantly turn the ON switch and can already hear Jesse blaring for me to get in his office. Marcus raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"So, was it worth it?" Just having to ask after all the trouble we both know I'm in.

"Oh yeah." Flexing my hands, the pain in my knuckles getting a little too intense now that they've bled through the bandages, a solemn sigh matching a deep frown on my lips. "Can't you tell from the look on my face?"

It was forty-five minutes until Jesse got done tearing me to shreds. Good news is I'm not fired. Bad news is he's taking the damages out of my pay despite the fact it was taken care of. Once the cash we got from the Brothers has paid for the bar, the booze, and divided up between the staff, won't be much left for me but that's the way it goes; a long time of payment for a short time of fun.

Coming out of the upstairs office, I make my way back to the bottom, unable to ignore the symbolism of the situation. Fought hard to get to the top only to hit rock bottom once more. Seems to be the story of my life. Doesn't matter now. There's only another hour until my shift is up and I can head out. Melissa is still helping with the clean up downstairs and had the majority of the broken glass cleaned up. I join her, grabbing a spare broom but neither one of us says a word. A few minutes pass and she's the first one to break the silence.

"That was really stupid you know." Sounding annoyed but not angry.

"Isn't it always?" I shrug as I keep sweeping.

"Those six guys could have killed you Remo." Oh, not this again. It was odd that we never got together but she always worried and nagged like a wife.

"Lissa, I'm fine. See me? Here? Alive and in one piece?" Holding out my arms to show I'm all right. "Besides, those guys were a bunch of pussies anyway."

"What, that means I'm not supposed to worry when you get jumped by six guys?" Said sounding mildly hurt.

"No, and for clarification, that wasn't getting jumped. If they all attacked at once and dog piled me, that would be getting jumped." And here I thought she was mad I busted up the bar.

"Whatever. You are just such a typical guy. All balls and no brains." She said with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh for god sake, what was I supposed to do? Let the bastards get away with bashing Malcolm's head open, and he's fine. Thanks for asking." Trying to divert some of this attention away from myself. Not that it was unwanted but it was just weird to have someone worry about me.

"Do not try and guilt me into shifting the blame. Malcolm will be fine while you…you don't get paid even after all this." Dumping some glass into a garbage basket, she goes to sweep up more.

"Damn. Bad news travels fast huh." Said while sweeping up the last of the broken shards.

"Sure does." She said. "Especially when you leave your radio on." Tapping the antenna as it stuck out from my pocket. I carried Malcolm's with me and put it in my pocket for some reason. Taking it out, it seems the receiver button had been pressed down the whole time.

"Great." I sighed out. "Everyone heard?" Wouldn't usually care since Jesse always made a public scene out of reprimanding me but since Melissa blabbed about the whole orphan thing, she felt responsible whenever he mentioned it and so did any other staff in an earshot with a conscience since they felt the partial responsibility it got back to the boss. Now that they knew I was getting nothing for my trouble, there were likely going to get together and raise some cash and make a huge deal out of nothing.

"Yep. Looks like." I can hear the smirk in her voice as I dump the glass into a larger trashcan and roll my eyes beneath my shades.

"No, Melissa." I said sternly.

"No what?" Said in mock innocents, giving me back a dose of my own medicine.

"I'm serious Mel." Trying to keep that tone. "No."

"Don't know what you're talking about." Said just to antagonize me.

"I'm gonna burn it or give it to charity or something. You know that, right?" Turning on me with a groan, she threw up her hands.

"Why is it so hard for you to accept help?"

"That's not help. That's charity and I am not a charity case. I'm not taking a hand-out."

"Remo, we just want to give you a leg up every once and a while. Is your pride really worth getting kicked out on the street or starving for the next week?"

"Melissa, I been working here for almost a year and you should know by now I do things on my own. I don't need help. I'll get the cash some how and earn my keep." There was no negotiation in that and she knew it.

"You just have to be such a hard ass, don't you? Remo the loner. Remo, mister-I've-got-to-do-everything-on-my-own Xenhon. Sometimes I think if a train ran over your legs, you'd rather crawl to a hospital than risk damaging that reputation."

"I'll still have my hands, I'll walk on those." I say while hiding my own smirk this time.

"Asshole." She shakes her head but can't help but crack a smile, which soon gives way to a small bit of laughter. Oh yeah, she loves me, even if she wants to knock my head off most of the time.

"Twenty-five." I say out of the blue.

"No, Remo." Looking at me another look of deep annoyance.

"No, I'm wrong or no, you won't tell me?" A tilt of my head at her.

"Wait, so after that big spiel about running on your own steam, you're still going to bet me?" She moves past me, on her way to the liquor closet. "You are unbelievable."

"Well I know that but you didn't give me an answer." I move to follow her. "Come on 'Lissa. I gotta know."

"Remo…" She turns on her heel to glare at me. "…you are the most egotistical, pig-headed, over-sexed, instigating idiot I have ever met!" Taken aback as she unloads on me.

"Yes." Said after a momentary pause. "…But the over-sexed portion is partially your fault." Again, her anger deflates as she tries not to smile. "Come on Lissa. Twenty-five." There's another long pause before she takes off her watch and shows me the timer.

"Twenty-nine." I slump where I stand and reach into my pocket to produce a twenty-dollar bill, handing it to her.

"I'm getting slow. Well, a bet's a bet." We started this little game a while back. I asked her to time me as to how long it takes to beat up the riff raff and guess how I did. I'm not very good at it unfortunately as she takes the bill and adds it to a fat stack of others. I'm surprised she hasn't spent it yet. Still she looks at me with a worried eye. One I know all too well.

"Hey, I'll figure something out and get more cash. Meanwhile, no charity." I say strongly.

"Fine." She sighs. "No charity." As I begin to walk off, she grabs me by the arm. "Just…be careful alright. Don't be afraid to ask for help."

"Baby," said as I shrug coolly. "I'm not afraid of anything."

My shift went uneventfully the rest of the night, no one else willing to start trouble so I grabbed a drink or two, smuggling two bottles of Jack Daniels out of the closet and headed home. Some of the cops had stuck around to ask questions which meant I needed to be heading out. Despite acting like a leader of the merry band when we took the Brothers out into the lot, there was a reason Marcus did the talking. Imagine my surprise when one cop I expected to be around didn't show up so maybe my night wouldn't end so badly after all.

"No one killed this time, Remo?" A female voice said. Spoke too soon.

"No one worth mentioning Detective." I said, turning to face the dark-haired woman, wearing that red jacket she could never seem to take off for anything, but I'm hardly one to judge, with the black trench coat I wore like a second skin.

"I'm almost sorry. Murder will get you sent back to the federal pen instantly. No first or second strike for you; just go straight to third." Said with a smirk on her face as she crosses her arms.

"And I'll bet you get absolutely wet at the thought of locking me away for the rest of my natural life." I shot back with a grin of my own.

"Not as much as when I think about the four hundred pound bunkmates you'll have wanting to get a piece of you." Eliza Maza was one of the best detectives on the NYPD and she knew it, however it was because I stepped down that she always suspected I had some other kind of criminal intent and it aggravated me to no end but turn about is fair play.

"Sorry, I don't get off on the gay porn as much as you do." Looking her over, I could tell there was something different about her. I hadn't seen her around for some time, which was nothing new ever since I went seven straight months without hearing from her or her carrot top, conspiracy nut of a partner, Bluestone. I couldn't lay my finger on it but she was different somehow.

"…Finger." Then I saw it, the gold band that undoubtedly had some kind of meaningful inscription on the inside.

"Excuse me?" She said, craning her head to hear me, probably thinking I couldn't come up with a good enough retort.

"Who's the unlucky woman, detective?" Tilting my head at her as she looked at me in mild confusion. "The wedding ring." I say for clarification. "I mean this one must have been some kind of hard core dyke to tie the knot with you." She snorted then, apparently getting a kick out of my little comment on her new hand ornament.

"Yeah. Her name's Lucille and she loves to pick her teeth on men like you who only pretend they're dangerous." Every word she said, dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, I'm sure. After she's done shaving her beard do me a favor and send her my way. I could use some fun for tonight." Turning to walk away, I roll my eyes as I hear her footsteps moving to follow me.

"Heard you had plenty already. The Ho brothers are being booked and claiming you stole money from them. Any truth to it?" Damn snitches. They wouldn't last long with that attitude in prison.

"Don't know what you mean. There was just the money they paid for the damages to the bar and they seemed all too happy to give that up." I lied without turning to do it in her face. Hearing the smug chuckle that followed her voice, it was good I kept my eyes front.

"All the cuts and bruises on their faces, that's not how they tell it. In fact- " I don't bother to hear the rest, opting to cut her off instead.

"_Detective_, I really couldn't care less how they tell it. If they have a problem, they can come down to the club and discuss it with me personally if they feel so sore." I pick up my pace but only a little, not wanting to look like I was running away from her.

"Sore about what, Remo?" She says while keeping up. "I thought they paid _happily_?"

"Detective Maza, you can play this cop game all you want but the bottom line is they came in, they started trouble, broke some shit, and had to pay up for what they broke and there's not a single customer or staff member that would be willing to tell you otherwise." Besides Jesse, I left off. He would put me away in a heartbeat if he could. "Though, so far, all I've got for my trouble is a bunch of fucks like you breathing down my neck and not even a paycheck to show for it! So if that's all, kindly fuck off please."

Finally she broke off her pursuit but I could feel her eyes staring a hole in the back of my head. "Quit while you're ahead Remo. You keep this up, you're going to get yourself killed." She'd just have to settle for tossing evil glares my way after that although she succeeded in confusing me with that last line. What did she mean by that? Whatever.

Since talking to cops, filing out reports and making sure someone would be around to cash those checks in the morning made me late to catch the bus home so I was left to walk back to the apartment. I swear if I knew I'd be catching all this heat for one little bar fight… whom I kidding, I probably would have done it anyway. Just add it to the rather large score card of stupid things I do.

Making my way back through the park, I hear some commotion coming from a group if trees and bushes clustered together. That was usually the spot teens and adventurous couples laid down to have a little fun back when this particular park had seen better days but was currently playing as a hiding spot for a group of five sleazy looking men as wolfs waiting for a lamb to slaughter. If they had fangs, they'd be drooling from what I see.

Most smart people didn't come through the park this time of night so they were doing nothing more than wasting their time or so I thought before seeing a short blonde girl walking through the concrete path along with her gothic looking friend with dark hair and black jacket and knee-high skirt. At a second look, the smaller girl didn't seem so much blonde as nearly gold, the moonlit night playing tricks on the color. She carried a book bag by one strap slung across her shoulder. They looked like a couple of school girls but there was something strange about them since they both looked as though they were trying to be inconspicuous but kept glancing into the sky.

The men had spotted them and were about to move in to strike. I've seen situations like these all the time, like a pack of hyenas, they would descend on her, surround and box them in, before moving in for the kill. From the looks in their eyes, they planned to do much more than rob them. They were hungry for blood, a woman's blood, and they meant to feed on these poor souls.

Normally, any other time, I wouldn't get involved. I mean I've already had a rough night, my hands are sore, and I'm likely going to be eating my boots in the next few days since I'll have no money to buy food but rapists were some of the biggest scum on the planet and I'm already in a very bad mood because of the apparent Mrs. Maza. I followed behind them, staying back a few yards and blending with the shadows. Another reason I ware all the black. The girls saw them and tried to keep moving but the group of men spread out around them to block their path. However, the ladies looking very unafraid, like there were some joke the rest of us weren't in on.

"Hey girls. Pretty late to be out don't you think? It's dangerous out here. Might need a chaperone." Said one in the lead of them, no one seeing me yet.

The girls just glanced at one another with twin smirks. "Oh boys, if we needed chaperones, they wouldn't be a third as ugly as you." The gothic looking one said as she crossed her arms. She had spunk, I had to give her that but the thugs didn't share her sense of humor, one of them cracking his knuckles and eyeing her intensely.

"Oh yeah, that bitch is mine." Real big man to beat up on a woman, I thought, getting closer to them.

"In your dreams, dick head." She snapped back, still showing no fear even as the guy took a step forward, stopping only because his friend held him back. I was hoping these two weren't a couple of action junkies just looking for a rush while gambling with their lives. Still, junkies or not, I don't want to hear about the bodies of two young women found sodomized in a ditch tomorrow on the news.

"Let's put some pain on these cunts." That's my cue as the five men started to advance on the two girls who still didn't run, I finally came out of the dark and made my presence known.

"Now there's an interesting subject. Let's talk about pain." I said, making everyone jump, including the two females. Yep, I still got it.

The five spent a moment wondering just where I came from. Probably thought I was a gargoyle for a second as absurd as that is but one of them finally regained his composure. "This ain't your business man. Just walk away."

"You know, I'm sure if you apologize now, they'd be willing to forgive your very rude behavior and let you go." This elicited quite a bit of laughter from them, two holding their sides.

"Oh okay, so if we apologize, they gonna let _us_ go? Alright man, we'll apologize just as soon as we finished with 'em." I could have put money on this going down the hard way.

"Alright, I'll put it another way. Either apologize and leave or start eating that trash can." Said as I nod over to the aluminum can, battered and rusted from years of use. The laughter ceased as the one closest to me pulled a switchblade from his pocket, elaborately twirling it open, showing his marginal skill with the weapon, pressing the tip against the eye of my glasses.

"Got to hell. Hero." He's ready to give a good shove and stab me through the eye. These five were ready to kill all three of us for nothing more than a good time. The men at the club were just fun. Just business. They were beaten but would heal and get paid for it. Taking these bastards out would be a public service. He thrusts the knife forward, hoping to get a quick kill but a turn my head and he stabs nothing but air. Spinning with the blow, his arm goes over my shoulder and suddenly, he's at my back.

"You first." I take a firm hold around his wrist of the outstretched arm, raising it up before slamming it back down on my shoulder and breaking it at the elbow. The knife made a high-pitched clang as it hit the ground but you couldn't hear it over the sound of the break nor the mugger's deafening scream. Bending forward, I use the broken arm to flip him over to the ground before stomping on his face to shut him up.

The other four left standing were in shock but only momentarily as another charged forward, brandishing a lead pipe, to swing at me but missed by mere inches as I backtracked a step. I grabbed his wrist before he could balance himself to swing again and planted a foot on the front of his kneecap. I regret not doing the chivalrous thing and telling the girls to look away since it seemed to be too much to bear, the small blonde turning away with a horrified look on her face.

"Okay, legs are definitely _not_ supposed to bend that way." Her friend remarked, apparently being made of sterner stuff but still wincing.

Mugger number three swung a kick for my groin but I lift a knee to block him, stopping his leg mid-way and stomping down on his foot with a heavy boot. He grunts and begins to reach for something in his back pocket, a stiletto this time, hoping to slit my throat but I don't give him the chance. Face palming him, I shove him to the ground while still holding my boot down on his foot. There goes another scream as the bone in his ankle bends and snaps.

Amazingly, the last two have yet to learn from their predecessor's mistakes, number four coming at me with brass knuckles. Second pair that's been swung at me tonight but the trashcan I threatened them with is within reach so I grab the lid and block the hit like a medieval knight sans the sword and armor. Even with the brass knuckles on, he recoiled in pain, too focused on his throbbing hand to see the lid swinging for his head. No screams from this one, out cold before he hit the ground. And then there was one.

"Stay back! Stay back man!" He glanced at the two girls just behind him and I could see the desperation; he was going to make a grab for one of them to use as a hostage. Tossing the trashcan lid at him, pure instinct forced him to catch it, occupying both hands as he held it in front of his face. I give him a chance to know it a bit better, kicking the lid with full force into his face, shattering cartilage as it crushed his nose, blood splattering against the thick piece of aluminum as he collapsed in a heap to the ground.

Stepping over the unconscious body, I move closer to the girls who are slightly in awe but instead of talking to them, I pull the bottle of Jack Daniels from my coat and examine it carefully. If they cracked it, I'm going to be very upset. Luckily, it's completely in tact.

"Um…thanks." The blonde said to me, stuck in a slight state of shock while her taller friend had an opposite reaction. She gives me a small bit of applause.

"Woo! Man, that was awesome! Nicely done." She waves her had at the bottle. "No thanks. She's too young and I'm driving." She said, motioning to her friend.

"Birdie!" The blonde girl said, rolling her eyes at her friend.

"What? The closest thing you had to alcohol was a rum cake, Aiden." Well, now I have names for them besides Blondie and Goth girl.

"Yeah right. What are you, fifteen? Combined?" I said. Despite myself, her comment makes me smirk.

­­_Fwoop_. There's a sound above our heads, just behind me, like something flying. Looking up in the sky, I begin to turn around just as the one called Birdie quickly extends a hand.

"Thanks!" She said in haste. "Again…for saving us mister…?"

"Remo." Said simply as I shook the offered hand. Looking back at the downed bodies behind me. Two still conscious thugs are yelling insults and threats of revenge. There must be some reason they weren't worried about being raped and killed, and likely not in that order.

"Is that a first or last name? Or are you just like Cher or Bono?" She said, tilting her head and keeping a somewhat firm grip on my hand. "And what's with the sunglasses? You ­_do_ know it's midnight right?"

"First." Raising an eyebrow at her before pulling my hand away. "And you can let go now." They're both hiding something, I can see that but I wasn't in the mood to play hide and seek so I just shake my head and begin to walk past them when the Bird girl gasps while looking at her hand. There's a bit of my blood on her fingertips. Damn, I forgot all about my knuckles. Holding up my taped fists, the bandages were almost completely red from all the soaked blood. I guess I had ignored the pain for so long, I didn't see how much more damage I was doing to them.

"Oh...hell, I'm uh... sorry. I...that's my fault." Taking a part of my coat, I wipe the blood off her hand. "I'm sorry." I've been in two brawls tonight and broken quite a few bones without a thought but my blood on her hands was...unnerving for some reason. They seemed much more concerned than the average New Yorker should be, looking at the red bandages.

"Are you okay?" Aiden asked as drops fell from the blood-soaked tape to the ground.

"That's looks pretty bad. Maybe you should get to a hospital." Birdie said. "There's one not too far from here..."

"No, I'm fine." Said as I wipe some of the loose blood on my coat. "It's not as bad as it looks." Which wasn't saying much since it looked very bad, Birdie almost reaching for both hands but I back away

"We could help." Aiden began, "I mean if you just…"

"You two _just_ need to get the hell out of the park." Said, suddenly getting defensive "What's wrong with you, walking through here this time of night? If you ain't a tourist, common sense should tell you not to walk through New York parks at after dark." Surprise obvious on their faces as I did a one-eighty and went from hero to asshole.

"Hey, we were just trying to help. What's with the Mr. Hyde act?" Said Birdie just as defensively as I snatched my hands away although she certainly had more cause to be upset.

"Help with what? Getting killed? No thanks." Turning away, this time, I walk past them and out of the park, hearing Birdie and Aiden talking behind my back. I hear her call me a jerk and she's probably right but I hate looking weak like that. Lose focus for one second and you end up paying for it. I consider stopping to listen when Aiden says something about helping me but decide against it. Probably just wants to take me to the hospital and I don't need to go. She mutters something but I'm heading out of an earshot.

So, to sum things up: I beat up some punks, trashed the club, got a weeks pay deducted, got harassed by a cop I hate, beat up more punks, and yelled at their potential victims for no reason other than the ones listed. A perfect end to a perfect evening. Well, as Aiden fell silent behind me, at least my hands were feeling better. I was so focused on how much of an ass I was, I didn't notice the pain had completely subsided.

Finally getting home, the rest of the evening was pretty uneventful. Got yelled at by my landlord but I could hardly hear him, the bottle of Jack was half finished by the time I stalked into home sweet crappy home and hung my coat over the window. I held off on drinking the rest as I plopped down on the bed while switching on the tube. Slightly buzzed, I eye the phone and contemplate making a phone call that could put me in even more trouble but could also save me from being kicked out. Melissa or one of the other staff may have offered me a place but I would have said no. As much as I regret my decisions sometimes, I will stand by them no matter how idiotic they may be. Picking up the phone, I dial and listen to the rings, counting them off like a timer, still wondering if this was a smart move.

"Yeah?" The click wakes me out of my thoughts and a raspy voice answers.

"Freddy. It's me." A pause as the old guy remembers my voice.

"Remo? Hey, long time no see, kid!" His laugh is hearty and long, voice like that of Vin Deisel if he had tuberculoses. Despite that, I was glad to hear him.

"Yeah, good to hear your pretty voice too. How you been you old bastard?" A small crept on smile on my face.

"Worrying my hair out over a youngster like you, ya' son of a bitch!" Said with another one of his throaty laughs, I join in with him this time. That's always been a compliment in my ears. "How are ya'?"

"Not kicking around as well as I'd like but I'm alive. I guess that's something." Fast fingers Freddy, or just plain Fred as I call him, was the man to know if you ever needed in on jobs going down in this city. Unless you were rolling in cash or came from a particularly wealthy or dangerous family, he was the information man where every little tidbit of criminal activity ran through him.

The info would cost you a small percentage off your plunder and that was how he earned his keep. He would supply you the information and equipment to pull off a job for a fee of whatever you steal. If you wanted to make it in the illustrious world of organized crime, he was the man to talk to. He's worked with the likes of Tomas Brode and Tony Dracon but because of their recent, and now constant screw ups, he was working on severing his ties with them.

"Listen Fred, I'm gonna cut right to the chase. I need work." Said with a small sigh. This was an avenue I was trying to get away from.

"What?" He said sarcastically. "Life on the straight an' narrow ain't workin' out like you planned?"

"Fuck you. That's the thanks I get for taking heat off you, huh?" Said with a chuckle. Out of all the customers Freddy has, I think I'm the only one to get his info for free. Even men who'd saved his life only got a discount at the most but after an incident involving a hacker, I managed to save him from losing not only his information, but also his connections and clients all at once. He's been looking for a way to pay me back properly ever since.

"Hey hey hey, you know there's always a spot her if you wanna get back in the game…"

"No, Fred." Stopping him before he can get into his spiel about making more money, having no place among marks, and crime all I was being good at and decide to save myself the hour-long conversation. "I ran into some shit at work and just need some cash until the end of the month."

"C,mon Remo, this workin' day-to-day shit isn't for you." I give the fat man credit for keeping my best interests at heart but I made a promise. Plus, his heart's already got enough problems without adding me to the mix. Angina the doctors called it.

"Save it Fred. Have you got anything or not?" A deep sigh from him but I can hear the sound of him typing on that Dell laptop of his. A minute or so passes before he speaks again.

"Yeah, something simple. Something at this ice cream shop I think you can handle. Just being a stock boy." He said. There was no ice cream shop or stock boy job. Fred never said anything straight out over the phone, hardly when he was in person with the sheer number of cops that kept their eyes on him. "On the upper east side, some guy's lookin' for a few people to help lift a few tubs of rocky road."

I listen intently, deciphering the info. Sounds like a buyer has hired a few men on to lift some merchandise.

"Address is two three six ten East Avenue north." Which translated to 1335 West on the South side. That would put the place near the docks. So they were hitting a warehouse. That was fine with me. Most of the time, places like that were populated with guards that were too old to run after faster thieves and were there more as a deterrent.

"The boss is a tight ass though so don't expect to be in the Fortune Five-hundred in your first week." That gives me reason to pause. It's another code for how much this one is worth; doubling the five hundred and adding a zero gave me ten grand in my pocket. Ten thousand for one night's work? That was odd for petty larceny unless we were going to be lifting something of value and the buyer made sure he got what he paid for. I'll have to be careful on this one "And Remo, try not to fuck this one up 'cause if you do, I got nothin' else for ya'." Fred warned. "We clear?"

"Crystal. Thanks a lot Fred. How's your heart doing?" I can almost feel him rolling his eyes over the line.

"Best it's ever been." He rumbled. "So don't go thinkin' I can't beat the crap outta you for blinkin' at me wrong. I'm as young as I always been and even if I can't run a mile, I still got a bigger cock than yours by twelve inches." That gets a chuckle out of me; the last bit is his creative way of telling me to be there at midnight.

"Yeah whatever. Thanks again, Fred. I should probably grab some sleep." Said as I hold back a yawn.

"Alright kid, take care of yourself and good luck on Friday."

"And lay off the fried food for Christ's sake. Who's gonna do your job for free if you're dead?" There's that hearty laugh of his once more before he hangs up, leaving me to do the same and making a mental note of all the information I've been given. As always, however many men would be there, Freddy would contact their employer and vouch for me. Shouldn't be too hard to assure them with my record and because they need the extra hands anyway. Still, I figure I should be careful. No reward came without an equal price.

Although, speaking of hands, I needed to make sure mine wouldn't be leaving any incriminating DNA evidence behind. Grabbing the first aid kit, I begin to cut away the bandages with the stiletto I took from one of the men in the park before I toss the bloody rags in the garbage. At least the throbbing had stopped but my knuckles looked like a bloody mess, so covered with dried blood and dirt, you could hardly see skin.

I pour some of the Jack on my hands and brace myself for the fiery sensation but it doesn't come. I felt nothing, no burning, no stinging. As the majority of the red washed away my eyes widened to see the damage from this morning had completely disappeared.

"What the hell…? That's impossible." The bludgeoned flesh and bone was as good as new with not a single bruise to show for it or a shred of pain.

It's completely healed, like magic or something. I get up and flex my fingers, eyeing them clearly in the light. I wasn't nearly drunk enough to be imagining all this.

I throw a few punches in the air, making sure I wasn't hallucinating by hitting the wooden door to the bathroom. The hard wood gave way, making two indentations of my newly healed fists in the door. That hurt so I wasn't dreaming and not only had they healed but they felt better than ever.

There has to be some logical explanation for this and I ran quite a few through my head from the idea that some kind of chemical got in my system from that trashcan lid to the absurd notion that I could be some kind of mutant from comic book land. I shrug.

"What the hell, stranger things have happened." Picking up the knife, I decide to test the theory and make a small cut across my index finger. It bleeds a little but it doesn't heal.

I wait a few more minutes just watching it for anything strange to happen both nothing does. Sucking away the few red drops, I look towards the clock. It's already past 2am. Doesn't look like anything's going to happen so no use wondering about it for now.

Doesn't matter; anything else comes to mind I can think about later. For now, I've got to focus on the job I've got to do. Finishing off the rest of the Jack, I plop down on the bed and try to keep that focus, hoping that it will stave off any unwanted dreams.

The inky blackness is there once more, apparently not enough alcohol in my system to keep it at bay. It's the same as before as it always is. The dark, the light, the pain, the sex, but that was were the similarities ended. Straddling me, our twin orgasms subsided and she sat up, staring at me with a combination of love and anguish. My eyes close, trying so hard to block this away but never can. My arousal still evident only served to make it all the more shameful.

"Remo, please...look at me." Reluctantly opening my eyes, a pair of white wings extend from her back with a kind of grace and ease as if they were always there. "I'm sorry baby, I really am... but something's coming. Something bad." The feathers began to fall off, slowly at first but soon molted all at once and what was left was a pair of leathery, black, bat wings in their angelic stead. Wait, this never happened before. "Echo I…I don't understand."

Without warning, flames erupted in the black, dancing around us in a circle of fire; out intertwined bodies helpless as the blaze enclosed around us.

Wings or not, if I had a chance to save her for a change, I was damn sure going to try, wrapping my arms around her but something more has changed.

I'm ready to give myself to the flames in her stead but the body I touch is not the same anymore.

The skin has turned a light shade of blue. It's become more leathery to the touch. My hands move over well-toned muscle.

Pain shoots through me as talons dig into my chest, yelling out and removing the offending claws by the wrist. "Claws?" My eyes move up to her face and now, more than ever, I can see this was no longer the woman I loved.

This creature looked down at me with eyes that blazed a red glow so evil, it made the flames around us look merciful. Her hands clamped around my throat, grip like a vice.

"Thank you. My _love_." Like the body, the voice was no longer the same. Cold and heartless, spitting out the word like it was a bad taste in her mouth.

What in god's name was this thing that lie on top of me? I struggle in vain to break free but my efforts only serve to amuse her, a sadistic grin on her lips, barring her fangs.

She raised herself off of me but came back down on my length, still erect now more out of fear, moaning as she did it again and again, savagely using me as a play thing.

This was no tender love making as a few moments ago, this thing was taking form me what it wanted. Hands clamped around my throat, barely allowing small gasps of air. Denying me the panicked breaths I should be making.

She laughed louder when my eyes rolled, trying not to succumb to the intense pleasure she was inflicting on me but the warmth of her combined with my intense arousal from before was maddening.

She growled, beginning to tighten around me as she rode furiously, her hands still threatening to choke the life out of me. The red of her eyes grow even brighter as both our bodies tense up.

I try to fight it but as before, she takes from me without effort. The orgasm I felt seemed dirty. Sullied and tainted by this beast of a woman but the harder I fight against it, the more intense it became until my fingers curl in the skin of her hips as she rams herself down on me one more time.

She took a few more hard thrusts eliciting groans and whimpers from me. She was not satisfied with violating me but making sure I knew there was nothing I could do to stop her. She finally released her grip around my throat, allowing me to breath sweet air into my lungs just to seep it from me once again.

That smug smile never left her lips as her hands read back and thrust her claws down, through my chest, pressing further to stab at my heart, blood splattering against us both just before I let loose with a loud scream.

The scream carries over with me into my waking moments, jerking out of my bed and swinging my arms against an imaginary demon. Acting on pure instinct, I grab the glock .22 under my pillow and release the safety but I'm aiming at nothing more than a ghost. My hands are shaking so badly, I can barely aim straight even if something was there. It takes me a few minutes to realize the creature hadn't pulled a Freddy Kruger on me but that didn't stop me from checking for any wounds on my stomach and throat.

The pistol is placed in the sink as I continue to trace my fingers over the spots where she stabbed me. Nothing. No marks besides the ones already there from previous wounds. Looking at myself, I see I'm sweating heavily. No surprise there since my heart was beating a mile a minute but I'm glad to feel it beating period. It's a few more minutes before I can get it under control.

This was not the same dream. For two years, I'd had that same damn dream. Darkness, light, love, death. Always in that order and always just as horrifying but this was nothing like what I was use to seeing. For the first time in a long time, I was truly terrified of falling asleep.

It was a few minutes past midnight when I finally make it to the rendezvous point. It's a small abandoned studio apartment across the street from the warehouse. Stepping inside, I see six other people preparing for the raid and waiting impatiently for me.

"Where the hell you been? Freddy said you'd be here sharp." One with dark hair and a copper complexion said with a tinge of a Hispanic accent.

"Had some trouble finding the place. Are we doing this or what?" They were amazed by my audacity, arriving late and telling them to hurry up.

Scanning the room and taking in the diverse faces in front of me. One oriental, two blacks, two Hispanics, and one very curvy, short hair brunette. One of her talents must have been to tantalize any guards we may have to sneak past.

"This is Chan, Toby and Token, Carlos, and Vicki." He motioned to them one by one, each barely looking in my direction, opting instead to go back to what they were doing. "You can call me Ricky."

"You can call me shades, and I'm ready whenever you are." A general common sense rule is we never used real names with one another so there could be some deniability if one ever got caught. The real reason I'm late being I was fighting off fatigue all day. That nightmare woke me after only five hours of rest so I had to go through my shift while trying to stay awake but also trying to keep myself from dwelling from that evil thing that came for me.

I was tired but I didn't show it and after I collect my cut from this gig, I fully plan to blow quite a bit of it on a bottle of vodka and a few bags of cocaine. In the meantime, I got my game face on and kept up the illusion of perfect health as we gathered although Vicki seemed to sense something as she eyed me with a suspicious intent.

She looked to be in her early thirties but her eyes told she was much older on the inside. I know the look well since I see it in myself everyday. Still, there was something I couldn't place. Something more. No time to think about it now.

Ricky seemed to be the leader of this bunch so I addressed him. "We know how many guards?"

The look on his face suggested he was holding back an insult. "…Eight in all. There's a shift change in ten minutes." So we have a timetable to strike.

"What're they packing?" I ask, watching the tall black one loading a clip into a Beretta 9mm.

He shook his head. "Tazers. And flash lights." Said with a small snort.

Seeing the brunette load her second pistol, my next question is fairly obvious. "I thought Freddy said this was going to be a clean job." Bullets made for messy work.  
There was another snort from him. "It is." Was all he said before handing me my own pair. I look at him with a suspicious glance but he just nods at the weapons. Slipping one in the belt of my waist, I eject the clip from the other.

The bullets were nothing like what I'd seen before. Taking one out, I eye it more closely, the green shell housed some sort of liquid while the head broke up into three sharp needle points surrounding one in the middle. I smirk when I realize what it is.

"Tranquilizers?" I said, replacing the magazine and chambering a round.

"Best darts you'll ever see. Stuff is potent. One shot to any part of the body and they'll have the best night of sleep in their life. Needles are coated with a gel that numbs the skin on impact so chances are they won't even know they're hit until they drop." He explained.

"Nice." I had to give an impressed nod at their tech since most guys I know would have gone in, guns blazing and taken what they wanted in a hail of blood and bullets. These were much more professional. Ricky looked at his watch.

"Alright, we're on." With that, everyone rose from their seats and we head out. They all dressed accordingly with jeans and jackets that made them look like the average Joe. Ski masks doubled as skullcaps as they rested on their heads. The only give-away was that they were all wearing black. At least I can fit in.

We get across the street before I motion for them to wait. Stopping at the gate, I press my back to it. Peeking around to the entrance, I spot two guards talking to one another. Shift change was already happening as a female came to relieve them.

The older male was admiring her bottom through the grey, uniform pants they all wore. Perfect. Aiming carefully, I fire a dart into her backside; the silencer makes a whisper of the shot. The surprise on her face was evident, just as it was on the one other eyeing her bottom so intently when she turned and slapped him hard enough to stumble him back a step.

Another perfect moment presents itself. I fare a dart for the back of his neck. Ricky was right. They didn't felt a thing. Guard number three got turned to see his partners getting groggy seconds after the shots are taken. He moves his hand towards his radio. Shot number three gets him in the thigh. It was almost funny to see them all hit the ground at once.

Once they were out, I signaled the others to follow me in. They wasted no time in lifting the downed bodies and placing them out of sight, sitting down the one on duty guard in the chair of her post. There was a small TV there so I switched it on, propped her feet up on the table, and lowered her hat over her eyes. To a first glance, she will have simply fallen asleep at her shift. A close look would reveal the rope tied around her legs and wrist, a handcuff keeping her legs in place.

Making sure the others were out of plain sight, we open the gate and head inside quickly but quietly. Three down and five to go, I think as we make our way through the dark facility.

The place was larger inside than it looked outside. The lowest point in the roof was fifty feet above our heads. Catwalks extended over us as the large shelves of crates filled with unknown merchandise towered close to the ceiling.

As we gathered in the front, I turn to Ricky. Do we know which ones we're lifting 'cause I don't think we have time to search them all?" Said with a bit of sarcasm.

"The guy said they would have a symbol of an eye on them." Well I guess that helped a little. Still, with all the space, we'll have a time searching.

"How long do these things last?" I ask, holding up my pistol.

"Ten to twelve hours." Good. We've got time.

"Alright, let's get the other guards and start looking." They nod to me and split up. Within minutes, we've got the other five rounded up and hog-tied.

Ricky got the transport documents from the top office and read off what was crap and what was handled with care. The sections we searched had nothing of what he spoke. No crates or packages with an eye symbol on them.

An hour of searching turned up nothing. Using the guard's radios, I called him up. "One more time, Ricardo. Are you absolutely sure?" All of us getting a little irritated and more than a little anxious to get what we came for and leave. The longer we stayed, the more we ran the risk of capture.

"I'm sure, damn it! We should have found it by now!" He shouted back.

I ran a sweep one more time through where we searched, Vicki and I splitting up from the others to search on our own.

"So," I say, trying to open up with some small talk since it seems like we're going to be here a while, "You know anything about this employer or you flying blind like me?"

"Nothing." Her voice was feminine but she kept a serious tone, bound and determined to find whatever item we were looking for. I can admire that. "We spoke over the phone but he paid in cash."

I nod, saying nothing more and continuing the search. A few minutes pass and I'm a little surprised to hear her initiating conversation this time.

"So why are you hear? Need the money that bad?" She said while looking over the sides of a brown crate.

"Something like that. Don't know what you're cut is and I don't want to. I'm just paying a few bills." Looking on the underside of a package, I grab the sliding ladder and bring it in front. I take off my coat and hand it too her, revealing the sleeve-less t-shirt underneath. "Hold this. I'll be back in a sec." I'm still looking up at the package when she goes silent.

Looking over at her, she's staring in awe at the brand on my left arm. "Vicki!" I said to snap her out of it.

She shakes her head a little as if she had been in a trance, then finally takes my coat and slings it over her shoulder. "…Sorry." She said after a moment.

"It's alright." Glancing at the mark. "It unnerves some people." Said as I ascend the ladder. The thing that has been permanently etched in my skin was a hooded Skull holding a death scythe between its teeth.

"You were a Grim Reaper? I guess appearances really can be deceiving." I hear from her as I examine the bottom of the package.

"Yeah well…that was a long time ago." Clearing off some hay from the underside, I can see the black ink of an open eye incased in a pyramid. "I found it! Row six, middle isle." I say to her and into my radio.

"And bring a forklift." Vicki says, "I think we may have more than one to take."

Five minutes later, the gang was all here, gathered together and lowering the crates from the shelves; six of them in all with the insignia on the bottom of each. The eye wasn't always plain. The first one I found may have been large on the bottom but the others had smaller ones, printed discreetly on corners. Someone didn't want these to be found. Not by people like us.

"We got wheels out back. An SUV and an Escalade to load them up." Ricky said to all of us, throwing me a set of keys but Vicki intercepted them before handing them off to Token.

"Token, you drive." He shrugged and went with Ricky, giving her a curious look that matched my own.

She snatched a crowbar from Toby's hands and began to heft open the crates. "Um, I don't think we're supposed to be opening these." I said with a bit of concern. Opening packages you were hired to steal could get you in trouble. I know from experience but these thieves weren't heeding the warning and suddenly, alarms are going off in my head that something more may be going on here.

Glancing at Toby, Chan, and Carlos, they don't even look surprised when she tears off the top of the wooden crate. In fact, they seem to be the ones looking for something. "What are you doing?" A question directed at all of them.

"Trying to stop something catastrophic, Remo." Now I was wishing I packed something more than these lousy tranq-guns. She knew a name I didn't give and I know Freddy wouldn't foul up like that so common sense is telling me they knew me the moment I stepped through the door.

Once she managed to open the second crate, she sifted through mounds of Styrofoam packing peanuts and came out with a gem, a very large gem. It was the same cut and shape of a diamond but the difference in size made my eyes widen.

A normal diamond is barely the size of a stamp but could still set you back a pretty penny. This one was roughly the size of my hand. The second difference I noticed, once I got over the size, was that unlike a normal diamond, this one was completely black. No sparkling prisms could be seen, as the stone was absolutely dark from the inside out.

For a moment, I forget about the possibility I may be in quite a bit of trouble and stare at the strange gem. Vicki and the others looked upon it with relief as opposed to awe like myself. "What is that? Is this what you really came for?" Coming out of my daze, my hands thumb the hammers back on the pistols in my coat. "And how the hell do you know my name?"

The click of the pistols is audible but none of them make a move towards their own nor even move to stop me. In fact, the way they stare at me is a little confusion. Vicki puts up a hand to try and assure me. It doesn't help but what she says next gave me reason to pause.

"Been having any bad dreams lately?" Her eyes told me she already knew the answer.

"How did you…?" I said, loosening my grip on the guns.

"Remo, I swear we'll explain everything but…" She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence as an explosion outside diverted our attention. It was followed by what I could swear was a roar.

Windows exploded inward from the hail of flames. All of us hit the floor for cover, ducked down as we began to hear gunfire. Vicki was the first to react, yelling into her radio.

"Token!" Keeping to the codenames for some reason. "Token, talk to me! What's happening?" She yelled into the radio.

"…Ricky's dead! …Bomb on the trucks…they're here…pinned down!" What we all heard was some garbled words but we got the gist of it.

"Who's here? Who the fuck is coming after us?!" I yelled frantically. This was just supposed to be a simply smash and grab but all that was over in an instant. For a moment, I think about pulling my pistols on them but from what was being said, any threats I could come up with would be useless in comparison to whatever was out there, about to blast it's way in.

Vicki shouted something to the others, and then all at once, they ejected the tranq-rounds and switched them out for hollow points. She doesn't hesitate to throw me a set of clips and I follow suit. I wanted answers but they would have to wait.

Token tried to shout something through the radio but a second explosion cut him off. The gunfire from both weapons suddenly ceased. For a moment, all we heard was the twisting of burning metal as it slammed back into the ground but it was followed by three shots from the laser blaster. Slow succession. An execution shot.

There was no time for mourning as something flew through one of the broken windows and landed on top of the catwalk. It was some monstrous thing in dark armor. It was blue gargoyle, and a mean one at that. He brandished a rifle I'd never seen; large chrome, the muzzle smoked from spent shells or whatever ammo it used. His red hair was tied back in a small ponytail. An assortment of combat weapons was on his large frame; as if he weren't menacing enough, his eyes blazed a white light that was anything but holy sent a chill down my spine. What was worse, he wasn't alone.

The front doors split apart, falling to the floor as nothing more but splinters. What came through made my blood run cold.

"…No…"It was she. The demon from my dream. From my nightmares but it can't be. It just wasn't possible. It was only a nightmare.

The very sight of her causes my hands to shake so badly, I drop my weapons to the floor. I've never felt fear of another human being in my life but this was anything but human. Was this how children felt when they thought a monster was in their closet or under their bed?

_Snap out of it! You going to just lie down and die for this bitch? _ The voice in my head yells at me, bringing me out of my fearful daze. I blink a few times before reaching down and picking up my guns again. Luckily, we're in the middle isles and it's difficult to see us from where they are. Real or imagined, if my dream were any kind of premonition, she would show no mercy. Neither could I so first thing's first.

My first thought was to ask why they were after us but it didn't matter. One glance at their faces told they weren't planning to take us alive. This event certainly wasn't doing much to improve my perception of gargoyles but that was only important if I lived to see another one.

Toby and Chan moved under the shelves, which were large enough that even a big guy like Toby could slip under, and made there way past the crates and to the rear exit. Vicki and I followed suit, moving just behind them, I behind Chan and she, Toby. Carlos was gone. Must have darted off when these two made their dramatic entrances.

The fire from the two cars was beginning to spread to the building but no alarms would sound or sprinklers go off since we disconnected the system while we worked.

The male leaped off the catwalk and on top of the shelf closest to him. They were moving too quickly and we too slow. The element of surprise worked in their favor, the explosions causing all of us to freeze with fear, even me. Especially me. It was only a matter of time until…

A laser blast struck the floor at my feet, sending pieces of concrete flying and turning that part of the floor into a smoldering crated the size of a basketball.

"Mother! Here!" The male yelled before firing another shot in our direction. Mother? This thing was her son? Perfect. I would certainly hate to see what daddy looked like.

The bolt hit the crate just in front of me and behind Toby. This thing was a decent shot so chances were he wasn't going to miss again. Mom began to fire on us as well, streaks of red light flying past us from behind a few thousand feet per second, decimating the various packages.

Just my luck, they had only seen Toby and I. The crossfire they caught us between meant we could only keep moving and hoped the crates kept us from being easy targets but their rate of fire was shredding them one by one.

Suddenly, sparks flew around the male as bullets impacted against his body armor. He was forced back as Carlos emptied his pistols into the gargoyle, forcing him to retreat. At least for the moment as he ducked down behind the thick, steel shelves.

Carlos was on the stairwell leading to the upper office where the manager did his work. He was at an elevated position so he had a slight advantage but the stairs were shallow cover at best and he'd be a sitting duck once they turned those blasters on him. In all likelihood, he knew that already.

The distraction, however small it was, gives us a chance to fight back. Toby read my mind as we turned from our cover to fire back at the female. She almost looked as though she were dancing as the bullets tore through the white loincloths she wore. Seems she was every bit as arrogant in real life as in my dreams, choosing not to come armored as her son.

However, she simply recoiled but did not fall. "Mother!" The male yelled, seething at the sight of her being harmed. A loud roar rumbled from his clenched fangs as he leaped at Carlos. His wings spread to their full length, making him look gigantic before he glided past the fairly short distance. Carlos was caught between reloads, dropping the pistols as the gargoyle slammed into him. He yelled as claws tore through the skin of his face but tried to bear the pain, throwing a right hook for the creature's jaw.

The man was brave, I will give him that, but he was fighting a losing battle. His fist caught the blue devil across the jaw but barely fazed him. Claws continued to dig through flesh, as Carlos' yells grew silent. Finally, when he could fight no more, Carlos' torment was ended when the gargoyle put his hands around his neck and twisted. I could almost hear the snap just before he flung Carlos' lifeless body to the floor. He shared his mother's taste for blood.

I didn't know the guy at all but somehow, I figured he must have known he wasn't going to make it out alive and I feel unworthy of that kind of sacrifice. I can't think about it. Don't have time as the female was fired on us again, even with seventeen holes through her body, though the blood loss must have been a strain so her aim was off but she was determined not to let us leave here alive.

The male was preparing to join her when he paused and flew past us instead. "Mother, I found them!" He said as he landed in front of the crates we had spent the better part of an hour searching for. Some criminals stole quickly and clean while others stole loud and messy.

Pausing to look behind me, I see him begin to tear through them, tossing out old pots and statues, searching for something specific. I turn an eye on Vicki, having an idea of what they wanted but she was giving Toby and Chan commands like an army veteran, throwing up hand signals and causing them to nod. I'm not sure if it's good or bad that I cared more about the loss of their comrade than they seemed to.

"It's not here!" The male yelled, kicking what was left of the crates.

"They must have it. Kill them all!" In a move of insanity, Toby and Chan moved from behind the only cover they had and went into a dead run for the exit. Without hesitation, the female began to fire on them but the zigzag pattern they ran made them difficult targets.

Toby and Chan were almost to the door when a stray red bolt tore through Chan's shoulder. Token stopped and turned, ready to drag the smaller man to safety but was greeted by the luminescent eyes of the male as he landed in front of him and on top of a screaming Chan. The blue creature's claws were dripping with Carlos' blood.

These people continued to show their bravery against overwhelming odds. Token narrowed his eyes and didn't hesitate to charge at the winged brute, looking to tackle him to the ground. The gargoyle flipped him over easily and lifted a three-talon foot to stomp on his head but Token rolled out of the way.

Gargoyle or not, I couldn't sit by and do nothing but when I get up to help him, Vicki grabs my arm to stop me. She shook her head as if it were too late for the both of them already. I push her off me, moving to help Token once more but a piece of flaming debris fell from the roof to block my path.

The heat was beyond intense as the fire spread to the shelves. All of a sudden, it hits me. My nightmare was coming true and all the elements were coming together. I can barely see them through the flames but Token and the garg-male continue to fight with one another but the blood coming from Token's mouth suggested he was badly injured.

"Remo, come on!" Vicki yelled in my ear as she pulled me towards the side exit. The whole place would be coming down soon and she seemed content to just leave her teammates behind. Either run and live or stay and die.

Turning away from the battle to follow her, another large piece of debris the size of a pick-up truck begins to collapse from directly above us.

"Move!" I yelled before shoving her hard, and out of the way as it crumbled to the floor but I don't escape unscathed. A corner of it catches me in the shoulder as I fall backwards from getting crushed. There's a sharp pain as I feel my shoulder pop from the socket. If I landed three inches further to the right, I'd have fallen on a large cinderblock. On my back, just as my nightmare, the flames all around me, this seems like a small portion of what hell must be like.

"Remo!" I hear Vicki yell, and can see her about to jump through the flames to help me but her body jerks as a red bolt goes through her stomach. I hear the shot before she hits the ground.

The female gargoyle walks through the fire as she held power over them; the dark silhouette of her shape was highlighted by the red glow of her eyes. Her laser rifle at the ready, she stands over Vicki who spat blood at the cruel creature in a vain act of defiance.

"I warned you to stay out of my way Victoria." She said. Even the voice was the same. "If you had, your end may have been quick and painless."

"…You…won't…win…" Vicki said through shallow breath. She was checking out, there was no doubt about that but this beast of a woman didn't intend to let her die peacefully, placing her foot over the wound and pressing down. If Vicki had the strength to scream, she would have but could only manage a whimper as she gritted her teeth in pain.

"Once I have the stone, humanity's time will be over and the world will belong to us!" The garg-woman said smugly, pressing down harder on the wound. "Pity you will not be here to see it."

"Speak for yourself!" I yelled to get her attention. Leaping over the debris, the female turns to me with a look of surprise. She grabs the trigger of her rifle but I'm already flying through the air. Razorblades of pain slice through my arm but, like an NBA superstar, I leap up and smash the cinderblock on her skull in a slam-dunk that would put Michael Jordan to shame.

The ten-pound block of concrete shatters against her head like a piece of glass, my arms reverberate right down to the bone from the force of the blow. For one terrifying moment, I think all I did was piss her off when she's still standing but the blood that spurts from her open skull says otherwise.

A second passes before her eyes roll back into her head and she falls flat on her back. I pop my arm back into place, ignoring the pain as it aches and burns, and just in time since I can hear Token screaming in the distance before he instantly goes silent.

When it's clear the demoness is not getting back up, I look down at Vicki. A gut shot was one of the worst and most painful places to get hit and I'm betting the garg-woman knew it. I'd pump a few shots into her corpse for that if I had the time but Vicki's fading fast so, after I toss my gloves into the flames, I scoop her up as gently as I can to carry her through the side exit.

Once we get out, I head for the street and try running as fast as I can. The destruction gathered quite the crowd outside and police sirens were close, heading here in a mass of blue uniforms and SWAT if we were lucky. I may hate cops but they do have their uses.

It's not a wise move all things considered but I drop the guns on the ground, using my coat so I won't get my fingerprints on them and kick them into a sewer drain. Here's hoping no kids or crazy bums got their hands on them but I couldn't be found carrying weapons or it's a straight shot back to lock up.

I instantly regret that decision when I hear a deafening roar coming from the burning building but don't dare turn for fear that the big one would be flying after me. No doubt that sound was from finding his mom on the floor with her skull caved in. Hopefully the sounds of the approaching sirens and gathering crowd would be enough to deter him from pursuit.

"R-remo…you…you have…" In my arms, Vicki is coughing up mounds of blood and even more was flowing through the wound and onto me.

"Don't talk. Cops are on their way." Those words sound strange coming from my lips. "They'll get an ambulance her and fix you up." I said, trying to reassure her as well as myself but I knew that wasn't true. Through the pain, she managed a smile.

"You're…bad…liar…" She said, trying to fill her lungs with enough air to talk. Just then, a loud crash from the building forces me to stop and turn, if only for a few seconds.

The male gargoyle was on the roof now, fire all around him, changing his blue color to a fire-red tint. If there were ever a more accurate visage of the devil, I don't want to see it. The gargoyle was holding his mother in his arms, mirroring me in stance. From where I stand, he head was still covered in blood but didn't look half as bad as it did a few minutes ago.

Locking eyes with the beast, I could see past the white glow to the look I knew all too well in my life. Revenge. He swore it on me this very night to have my blood. To come for me and tear me limb from limb and cause me pain that I had never felt before. Problem was, there was hardly any kind of pain I didn't know.

Shooting back a look of my own, it's hard to believe we could exchange so much in a glance that lasted less than a few seconds. I only hope he can't see through me in the same sense. Otherwise, he'd be feeling much fear coming from me.

Another growl escaped his lips before turning to glide away, the motionless body clutched in his arms. It was a nice front but the truth is my heart came pretty close to jumping out of my chest at the thought that he might fly after us. The cops were close now, probably about to come around the next corner so I lay Vicki down on the ground, her skin turning deathly pale; a far cry from her once bronze tan.

"Re…Remo…take it…" She says while pressing the black stone in my hand.

"Why? Who are you? Who were they?" There were a hundred different questions in my mind but she couldn't answer and she was the last of the group that could tell me anything, the two trucks still burning out front.

"…N-no time…stone…keep it…from her…" I held the dark thing and looked back down at her.

"Why does she want it? What's so important about this, you were willing to die for it?" And for me but I leave that off. She seemed more interested in getting both the stone and me out alive than her teammates or herself. I didn't deserve that.

"Take…care of it…promise…" She says, getting a look of disbelief out of me.

"Lady, you don't even know me! You're asking me to take care of something you died for!" I just can't wrap my head around that fact but before I can protest anymore, she grabs me by the collar of my coat.

"Just fucking… promise me!" She yells with likely the last ounce of her strength.

"…Alright." Said after a lengthy pause. "I'll take care of it. I promise." She collapses back to the concrete, pressing a hand to her stomach. The police finally arrived, squad cars screeching to a halt and guns pulled on me with orders to freeze and put my hands on my head. I comply while slipping the diamond in a hidden pocket on my coat while standing up.

"Get an ambulance down here! She needs…" I look down at her to see the now-blank expression in her eyes and her body as it now lay absolutely still. I didn't have to check her pulse to know Vicki was dead. In a deep sigh, I close my eyes a moment.

"…Never mind."

At the police station, I'm tossed in a holding cell almost immediately after the ride. They grill me for hours, trying to figure out what happened at the warehouse but I feign innocents well, claiming to be out on a walk to clear my head when I hear explosions and gunfire. Once we finish up with another round, I get twenty to thirty minutes of rest in between to every detail of my cover story from start to finish.

It wasn't long before we started up again but this time, it was detective Maza here to interrogate me. I'm rather surprised it wasn't her from the start.

"Come on Remo. You know you're story won't hold water in court." She said while sipping some coffee from a paper cup. "So why don't you just tell us what really happened."

"You know detective, that could be construed as a half-decent threat if you actually had anything to charge me with. However, unless it's suddenly illegal to take a walk in this city, I have to ask how much longer this is going to take. I got work tomorrow." The secret pocket in my coat did the trick when I could feel it was still there. They took it, searched me, and gave it back.

"You may have to miss your shift but I'm sure the Powerline will have a quiet night because of it. We've got a burned down warehouse, six dead and mangled bodies, and you're the one we find smack in the middle of it."

"Hey, like I told your good cop and bad cop duo already, I was just out for a walk when I heard all the commotion. I thought about just ignoring it when you pigs, I mean cops tend to think the worst of a guy just because he's taken a few trips through the 'justice system'." Said while making quote marks in the air with those last words. "Guess I should have known being a good samaritan doesn't count for much with you people."

"Good samaritan is hardly what I'd call you." She said with a snort. "What really happened? You and the others were there to steal something but ran into a rival group, had a shoot-out, and burned the place down?"

"Bravo detective." I say while giving her mock applause. "You got me all figured out. I guess I should confess and pay my debt to society right now, huh?" Every word dripped with sarcasm.

"Well, you just may get a lighter sentence. Who knows?" She threw back.

"_I _do. If you're waiting for a confession, don't hold your breath. However, I will admit there was one part of the story I was saving to tell ­_you_." That part raised her brows a bit. "I left out the portion about the gargoyles." From her reaction, she obviously knows something. Maybe not about the ones that attacked me but she knows something.

"What gargoyles, and why would you wait to tell me?"

"Heard around the office here that you're a bit of a sympathizer and thought you'd want to know. On my way out of the burning building, carrying the girl, I saw two of them." She kept her cool well. I had to give her that since she had only the barest of reactions but in my former line of work, it was important to know how to spot a liar.

"That depends." She said in a solemn tone. "What did they look like?"

A male and female. Blue with red hair and very nasty attitudes." Maza's eyes shifted even more. Seems she knew of them after all. "Both were carrying pretty heavy artillery from what I could tell. Nothing I'd ever seen before. The two of them flew off the roof as I was coming out."

"You sure the lights of the fire wasn't playing tricks on you?"

"Please. As much as I hate cooperation with cops, these two were real monsters." Maza continues to tell me more as her jaw tightens ever so slightly. Either she knew the ones I spoke of and hated them with a passion or she had a real soft spot for gargoyles in general and didn't like people calling them monsters as they so often did.

"Alright. We'll have to add this to your statement but you're free to go." She got up to leave.

"Wait. No more interrogations, threats of jail time, or good cop bad cop? I was just starting to get a taste of home. Least you could do is thank me for trying to save that woman."

"Well that's the problem, Remo." She turned to me, eyes showing a small hint of compassion. "You _didn't_ save her."

"Yeah…" I say with a sigh as she walks out. "…Story of my life."

Another load of wasted time as the cops drag their feet to cut me loose but all that matters is I'm out but likely with a few watchful eyes on me. It can't be helped but I need to speak with Fred. I need to find out who may have hired Vicki and the others before someone comes looking for me and Fred is the only one who may have that info or at least a few clues but from everything he's undoubtedly heard, I'll be the last person on earth he wants to talk to.

A simple job, good money for one night's work, was turned into a total disaster. The crew is dead but I, the outside man, am still breathing. If I were the one paying for this, double-cross would be written all over the situation. Never mind the fact that I still had a piece of what we were sent to steal. Fred had to know how this went down and so did the benefactor before he sends anyone after me.

Getting to a pay phone five blocks away, I call him up. The usual number gets to three rings before he picks up.

"Yeah?" He sounded plenty pissed already.

"It's me." Said after taking a deep breath.

"Remo! What the fuck happened down there?!" He yells over the line. "Tell me these news reports are all wrong and this ain't turned into a total cluster fuck."

"The party didn't go over as planned, Fred. I can't talk right now but I'll meet you at Denny's." Again, using code speak in case anyone could be listening however remote that chance may be. There's a long pause on the other end as he thinks it over.

"Alright. Bring whatever party favors you got to the Denny's up the street." Without another word, he hung up.

I met him at an old mom and pop diner he privately owns. Whenever someone needed to meet, he always chose places he had under his belt. A private restaurant was probably why he was looking pudgier than usual. The look on his face, however, told me I should get straight to the point.

"Gargoyles." I said simply, earning a confused stare. "Two of them attacked us and killed the crew."

"Bullshit." He says but the look on his eyes say he's wrapping his mind around the thought.

"We knocked out the guards, disabled the alarm, and found what we were looking for. Next thing I know, two of the flying freaks blew up our transportation and crashed in to take us out. I thought these things were all about protecting people but these two were capping anything that moved." Fred looked as though he were going to faint.

"Jesus." He takes a napkin and wipes his forehead. "They killed everybody?" I answer with a nod.

"Would've got me too if I hadn't gotten out of there. What was worse, the female that was with us, called herself Vicki, seemed to know one of them. They damn sure knew her." I ordered an Irish coffee sans the coffee from the waitress.

"Christ kid, you got any idea how hard it's gonna be to get you clear' a this?" He shook his head. "Buyer's never going to believe it."

"You think I don't know that! Why do you think I wanted to meet in person? I need you to try and convince this guy or whoever that this whole thing was just some big cock up that I had nothing to do with." I could almost slap myself for sounding so pathetic. Made me think of the numerous snitches and traitors I had to put down but this ordeal gives me cause to wonder just how many potential innocent men and women I may have killed.

Fred sighed and seemed to be thinking it over. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see the buyer wasn't going to believe my story and chances are, Fred didn't either. He had to go on a large amount of faith here and he didn't like it. Neither did I. He nodded after an uncomfortable silence.

"Alright, I'll tell him an' try to soften the blow but you gotta tell me now. Was there anything you picked up from the job? If you got something to give him, maybe this'll be a little smoother." A good faith payment, he meant.

"I may…but I can't tell yet. Something I hid down there that Vicki was desperate to give to me." I lied, feeling the gem in my pocket, now starting to feel like a weight. "I can't say what it is but if the buyer's got any forgiveness in him, let me know." Fred gives me an astonished look.

"Kid…you ain't thinkin' a keepin' it, is ya? Are you fuckin' nuts!" He yells out.

"Probably." I shrug. "What I have may be the only leverage I've got and I'm not giving it up if I don't have to." Again, Fred resigns himself since he's seen this stubborn side of me before and knows there's no arguing the poinr.

"…I'll see what I can do. Meanwhile, what're _you_ gonna do?"

"What I can. Just law low, stay out of trouble, and act like nothing happened." There's a small pause as I glance out the diner window and back to him. "And Fred, if this thing goes south, pretend you never knew me. I'll leave your name out of this."

"Fuck you, kid. Should' a thought' a that before I got you into this shit. I'm gonna do what I can to see this gets fixed."

"…Thanks. I'll be in touch."

Back at my apartment, I very nearly collapse on my bed. I don't think I've had a longer night in my life. The sun is rising when I finally step in the door and, not for the first time, I call in sick. Leaving a message on Jesse's office phone instead of having to talk to him. It will likely be the first peaceful day either of us has had but right now, I felt too tired to annoy him. Plus, after such a harrowing evening, I still try to keep myself awake. I can't go through this all over again. When Echo was killed, it took me two years to adjust myself to hellish dreams but they're starting to get worse. Maybe I should see a shrink if I live through all this.

I take off my coat and boots and remove the gemstone from the secret pocket. Holding it in my palm, I examine it, how it just seems to absorb light as opposed to reflecting it. Most gems, you could see a prism through it but this one was a solid black rock. Colored stones fetch quite a lot of money even in the legal circles and this could make me a small fortune.

The thought rolls over in my mind for quite a bit. Moving out of this hellhole and into a nice, expensive New York apartment. Penthouse floor. No more living from paycheck to paycheck or taking public transportation. It rouses a smile to my lips and I see a world of possibility in this one rock but think back to Vicki's dying wish.

'_Promise me…you'll take care of it'_

All at once, I knew I couldn't sell it. I made a promise to take care of it. Foolish as that may sound but I always keep my promises. I blink at the stone. For a split second, it looked as though it glowed. Must be the light playing tricks on me but the faint glimmer was growing brighter the more I stared at the black diamond. From the very center of the jewel, there came a white light but more than that, I began to hear something.

I want to turn away and drop the stone but I'm entranced as a spectacle of sight and sound ascends from the darkness of the gem. It's a white noise at first, just like the light but both soon give way to a scene of carnage and violence. A scene of battle began to form and the white noise became more distinctive as swords clashed, spears splintered, and men howled for victory over their enemies.

Soon, it was much more than just watching what was happening. My body feels lighter somehow, as if the world were falling away. My crappy apartment was disappearing and being replaced by the bright light. Soon, I can feel it washing over me like warmth from the sun. There's no gravity here as I float in the midst of this beautiful light. This feels vaguely like the beginning of nightmares but a complete opposite. There's not a shred of darkness to be seen and there is no feeling of dread and despair.

I don't fight it as it absorbs me, fading into the radiant energy with the feeling of freedom; freedom of self-loathing, from pain, from guilt. As I sink into the cloudless glow, for the first time in my life, I know everything is going to be fine.

Gates of Troy

1135 B.C.

My eyes open slowly, taking in the bright sun. My horse neighs in impatience as I wait a moment too long when addressing the thousands of men in front of the great city of my homeland. I can see the fear in their eyes as we look upon the Greek's vast army. Stretching as far as the eye could see, a dark ocean of men and steel. King Agememnon, in his insane quest to conquer all lands that would seek to oppose him and has thus far, succeeded but I will die a thousand times before I let him take my home. I turn to the men and meet their eyes.

"All my life I've lived by a code and that code is simple: honor the gods, love your woman, and defend your country." Slowly but surely, I can see the patriotic gleam begin to replace fear and sometimes, that's all one needed to meet death on his feet. "Troy is mother to us all! Fight for her!"

Paris, now safely inside the city walls, lost his fight with Menelaus but I could not bear to see him cut down by that war-mongering pig. Now, with the temporary treaty broken, the Greeks have been ordered to charge but Agememnon is fighting with his anger over the death of his brother. He will be careless, and foolish.

A battle cry of anger and retribution erupts from the Greek King's lips as he gives the order to attack. The ground rumbles as the mass of fifty thousand men come barreling towards us. Drawing my sword, I raise it high to unite the men.

"For Troy!!!"

Closer and closer they come but like true warriors of Troy, the men stand their ground. There is a terrifyingly beautiful moment where all time stands still. As if the world pauses to admire the ballet of brutality and violence, and then it begins. The Greek army collides with the force of a lightning bolt from Zeus himself. What proceeded was a battle of blood, anguish, and suffering that only war could bring.

Chaotic would not be a good enough word to describe what was happening as I watched friends and brothers cut down the enemy one by one. As the rear flank came within range, our archers on the top of the outer wall opened fire, dispatching a battalion with numerous well-placed shots. The men fell like dominos in the storm of arrows but there were many to take their place.

The Greeks were disorganized for the first time in their campaign and I would not let the advantage pass as they broke lines.

"Front line! Push!" I said. The front line of Trojans all moved forward, literally pushing back the tide of seasoned Greek warriors. The rival army seemed powerless to stop us from mowing down their front soldiers, spears and swords cutting down all those in our path.

Amid the blood and chaos, a mountain of a man was tearing through Trojan troops with a battle-hammer. His strikes could cleave flesh from bone in a single strike if he were carrying a sword but his hammer served to bludgeon and pummel. Many of my countrymen lay at his feet, the unfortunate ones were still alive but unable to move. Some bodies were still convulsing from the powerful strikes. The ones that could fight grew fearful of this man, drawing to gang up on him in a circle but that only proved to make him fight more fiercely, the shield in his other hand as big as a man and just as much an effective weapon. This one was mine.

Forward, I rode, holding my spear high to bring it down on my enemy but one swing from his shield deflected the blow and was hard enough to knock me and my steed to the ground. Rolling to a stop, I see my horse fared better in the impact than I as it gets to it's feet. I follow his example and grab the nearest discarded shield to meet my foe and none too soon as he brings the hammer down on me.

The strike nearly knocks me off my feet again but I stand my ground. From a few cheers of the Greeks, I hear someone call him Ajax. Grabbing my shield with his muscular arms, he flings me around like a child but some how, I manage to keep my balance. He swings the lumbering weapon again but I duck under. Once more, he brings it down on me but we clash as my sword meets the seemingly unbreakable wood of his hammer.

His strength is too much as he forces my blade to the ground. A backhand from him makes the world go hazy a few moments but I have no time to get my bearings as he comes for me again but the blow is deflected and hits the ground. My blade comes inches away from piercing his gut as I thrust forward but he dodges and I simply cut his armor.

I let him swing and miss, the hammer passing over my head once more. He swings again but my speed is greater than his, leaving him to hit nothing but dirt. I can tell he's beginning to tire. Another swing leaves me to block with my blade but he sees it coming and overpowers me. Both hands on my sword, he uses his larger weapon and forces the edge of the blade against my back and crushes me against him. The pressure feels enough to break me in half, causing me to yell out.

Face to face with this monster, may hands clasp around his throat but the bear hug only gets tighter. My hands move to grip his shoulders as I brace myself. Rearing back and head butting him into his nose. The impact was enough to finally force him to release me. I breathe deeply and pick up a discarded spear. Once more, I thrust for his stomach but Ajax proves to be quick for someone his size, breaking off the spearhead with his hammer.

Another swing and miss but he shoves the tail end of the hammer into my jaw and finally knocks me to the ground. I feel teeth loosen but have the good fortune to land on a shield. Ajax prepares to finish me with one final strike, swinging the hammer high above his head. I use the shield to cover myself and pray to Apollo it holds. Ajax roars as he brings the gargantuan weapon down on me. The impact leaves a hole in the shield but does not go through completely. Ajax pauses, obviously trying to see if I'm dead. It proves to be a fatal mistake as I bring up another spear. The surprise on his face that I'm alive is only equaled to the satisfaction on mine when the spear plunges through his ribs.

A spray of blood as the spear is shoved deeper. Getting to my feet, I shove a third time and try to keep going until he's down. However, Ajax refuses to be dispatched so easily, bringing his fist around hard to my jaw. For the second time, the world blurred but I look back to see Ajax break the end off the spear and brings it down on me. The blow sends me to a knee and a backhand from him sends me on my back. By the gods, what does it take to kill this man? Chances were he knew as I did a wound like that was almost always fatal so Ajax was intent on sending me to the underworld first, still willing to fight with me all the way to Hades and back.

Rolling to my stomach, I spot a spare sword from one of my fallen comrades. I can hear the lumbering footsteps as Ajax is closing in for the kill. Having been forced to discard his hammer, he resorts to beating me to death with a piece of the very spear I used to impale him. As he raises it high, I move forward, slicing what's left of the spear in half and thrust the sword into his chest. I plunge the blade deeper but Ajax still fights me, the look in his eyes revealing his last act on this earth would be to strangle me, his large hands closing in around my throat. Falling to his knees, I marvel at just how large he really is, still able to meet me eye to eye. I plunge the sword again, thinking his will immeasurable as he continues to squeeze his hands around my neck but his grip is weakening. His blonde beard is now red from coughing up blood. The life finally fades from his eyes as he falls off the blade and to the ground.

The cheers of the men are deafening as the battle between the two of us ends. With one small battle over, now comes the time to win this war. My breath is ragged but I fight to ease my fast-beating heart. Agamemnon foolishly continues to surge his army forward but our archers are mowing them down. It takes me a moment to catch my breath and realize we pushed them back. Best to keep the momentum going.

"Forward!!!" I yell, giving the command. The troops continue to deny the Greek army further advance. A cadence for the death march is sounded, the men shouting in unison with each step they took against the near-endless tide of the rival army. The Apollonian front threw a flurry of spears towards the enemy line, crumbling another row of Greek soldiers. I continue the fight amid the men, cutting down any that broke through.

"Prince Hector!" I turn and see one of my lieutenants has brought me my horse. Quickly mounting up, we continue to press into the enemy. The sheer force of our army crashing against them combined with the heavy losses they continue to receive from our archers, the Greek forces are beginning to wither away. It's not long before I hear their men giving orders to retreat. The Greeks break rank to run but we continue to chase them down like the devil at their heels, cutting down any Greek that does not flee from our land fast enough.

Chasing them back to the outside borders of their camps, I signaled the men to halt. Not an ounce of fear left, they wanted to take the fight to Agamemnon for a change. His army had crashed against us like a tidal wave but we were the rock upon which they were broken.

"Fall back!" I ride across the front line, stopping them from pursuit. "Fall back! Halt men! Halt!"

"But Prince," One officer says to me, "We have them on the run!"

"We're within range of their archers." Yes, they wanted to finish this war in one glorious battle that the world would never forget and forever sing the tales of how the great Greek army was defeated at the gates of Troy, so close to their goal but we could not. The men were feeling a battle high like no other as was I but we could not charge so headlong into territory that belonged to the enemy and not know what lay over the next ridge. The men stop just in time as a flurry of enemy arrows rain down on them but only their shields are struck.

"Have the men gather our fallen. Send an emissary to the Greeks. Tell them they can collect their dead." Wiping blood from my brow, I hardly have time to stop and check if it's mine.

"Would they have done the same for us?" He asks while I give him a look in return. We both knew the answer to that question but we were better than that. We are honorable men unlike the tyrannical ruler that sends his hoard to fight and die for nothing more than greed under the pretense of a lover scorned.

There were times I felt any cheers or congratulations I received for winning a battle were underserved. It was the warriors that one the battles with courage and valor. Not the Kings or even Princes but the men cheered me for victory out of honor and respect. For that, I could do nothing raise my sword high and salute them.

"Hector! Hector! Hector!" They all said in unison as they banged their spears against earth, swords against shields, and fist against chests in time with their chants of my name. "Hector! Hector! Hector!" The rhythmic sound was almost hypnotic, my eyes fading as the world became hazy and the cheers became distant and hollow.

Manhattan, Present Day

The cheers and accolades fade away but the pounding continues even as I awake from my haze. I look around quickly and see I'm back in my crappy apartment. Just as I left it, if in fact I hadn't actually gone anywhere. I had been sitting in my same position on the bed but my limbs feel sore as if I'd been that way all day. Looking outside, it takes me a moment to realize that it's the afternoon.

I search quickly and find my watch. It can't be right, the time showing 4:15pm. My mind must be playing tricks on me but the jewel is still in my hands. The white light that swept me away has subsided but I could still see fading traces of the light retreating into the stone. Like an old television switched off with nothing left of the picture but a dim spot. Had I really spent all day in some kind of fantasy world?

More than that, everything I felt as this warrior prince, Hector felt strangely familiar. I'd never seen that place or those people before in my life but I could place a name to every soldier. I could name every outer defense of Troy's walls. Every command and planned battle tactic was flowing through my mind at a million feet per second and it all somehow felt natural. Like I was meant to be there.

I get out of bed and stretch my arms and legs, yawning and groaning. My limbs were stiff and sore from being in the same position for so long. While my limbs may have felt tired, I felt somewhat refreshed, as if the trance I just came out of had doubled as some kind of strange sleep. Whatever it was, I was no longer feeling the stress and fatigue of the previous night, probably receiving the strangest, yet most relaxing bit of rest I've had in a long time.

Being someone else in your dreams was normal but was never like this. At some point, your mind realizes it's asleep and can tell the difference between fantasy and reality but this was not just some vivid experience. I had become Prince Hector for a time and fought his enemies. I could smell the combination of blood and sweat on a summer day. I felt remorse and revenge for each Trojan soldier that was killed. My ribs feel a ghostly ache from where Ajax nearly squeezed the life out of me.

I look into the gem once more, trying to focus on bringing the scene out again but nothing comes. There's not even a flicker of the radiant light. Maybe it was all just a hoax. Maybe it was some kind of effect from the bottle of Jack Daniels. First my dreams, then my hands, and now these visions. It feels like my entire life has turned upside down all because I decided to finish a stupid bar fight. No paycheck, no ten grand, a bounty on my head if Fred can't square this mess away with the contractor, and it seems I may be losing my mind to top it all off. What else could possibly go wrong?

I'm broken out of my thoughts by a knock on the door. I wrap the stone in a piece of cloth and tuck away in a floorboard underneath a loose patch of carpet I use to hoard a few choice things away should the cops decide to raid the place, namely two Beretta 93Rs, my Glock .22, and my own personally modified Mac 11 with plenty of ammo to go with each. I also had an Ithaca 37 shotgun underneath the windowsill.

Never knew just what kind of trouble might walk through the door one day with inhuman gargoyles, whack job Quarrymen, and any few brave officers, it's good to be prepared. The person outside knocks again as I hide the jewel and replace the board and carpet over it.

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Xenhon," Sounded like a woman's voice but nobody I knew. "My name is Elena Torres and I believe you have something of mine." I immediately palm the glock under my pillow.

"Sorry, don't know any Xenon." I can hear an exasperated sigh on the other side.

"Mr. Xenhon, I'm an associate of our mutual acquaintance, Fred." I pause, then. Maybe Fred had managed to get me out of hot water after all. Still, wouldn't they choose a less conspicuous place to meet?

"If you feel you should call him to confirm my story, feel free. I assure you, I'm unarmed." The voice on the other side of the door was confident and hinted she was eager to get straight to business and leave. I try to picture what she'd be wearing in my mind's eye. The way she spoke was complete no-nonsense so she must be in some kind of power suit.

Chances are she wouldn't possibly waste time out of her busy day to deal with me so she was likely just getting off her job working for some major corporation or conglomerate. Anything bright would be a mistake in this neighborhood so it would probably be something dark in pinstripes. Hair would undoubtedly be tied in a ponytail if not cut short. No jewelry besides earrings at the most and red lipstick.

For some strange reason, the color red set off a warning sense in my mind, but maybe I was just being paranoid. I slip on my glasses, placing the glock in the back of my belt and covering it with my shirt before opening the door. I'm amazed to see my assessment isn't just close, it's nearly dead on. Gold, dragon buttons offset the black pinstripe suit. Her black high heels clicked against the hallway floor as she came in, the saunter in her step accentuated by the hip-hugging blouse instead of the dress pants I was expecting.

The red lipstick paled in comparison to the crimson of her hair, tied back in a ponytail. She was beautiful to say the least but there was something about her features that didn't feel right. Something in her eyes that I couldn't see besides contempt. She was tough and held a fierce gaze in her look. I'd never seen her before but there was something nagging at me as if she were familiar somehow.

"Come in." Said sarcastically since she apparently didn't need an invitation.

"Fred informed me you have something of mine." She said, getting straight to business.

"Well maybe I do and maybe I don't. That really depends on where we stand." I could tell she was eager to get what she came for and leave. Just being here wasn't worth her time and any talk she had with me was beneath her.

"Where we stand is you give me the item and our dealings will be finished." She said forcefully. "Otherwise, my employer will be forced to assume that perhaps what happened at the warehouse wasn't as unintentional as you claim." I narrow my eyes at her.

"Don't threaten me, _miss_ Torres. I'm willing to make amends for what happened despite the fact it wasn't my fault but I'm just trying to cover my ass here." I should be more than willing to give her the stone and leave but the promise I made to a dying girl was beginning to overpower logic. "Besides that, I have questions." Her jaw tightens at my resistance.

"Questions can be dangerous in this line of work, Mr. Xenhon." She said with a threatening hint in her tone. Her mannerisms weren't what I'd call nervous but she kept glancing back and forth between her watch and outside through my window. I can't rightfully blame her, it was less than an hour before sundown and not many wanted to be in the neighborhood at night.

"Just answer me this." I pause, unable to think of any way to word this without sounding insane. "Were there any items that would have a strange effect on anyone that touched them?"

"…It depends on what said item is. Why?" She stared at me for a long moment before answering.

"Well…" I said, walking over to the window and turning to face her. "…Just call me curious." She pauses and I catch a lingering glance from her at the brand on my arm.

"Have you been seeing things Mr. Xenhon?" She said with a small tilt of her head.

"…No. Nothing. Just heard some of the others talking is all." Her gaze intensified, forcing me to turn away. It was like she could see right through me.

"I don't believe you." She said. "What did you see?" Suddenly turning the tables on me in this impromptu interrogation.

"I was just asking. I didn't see anything." I insisted but failed to sound convincing. She moved closer to me then, eyes narrowing and a strange look on her face as her gaze moved down towards my brand.

"Strange dreams lately?" My eyes widen at the question. The last time someone asked me that was just before all hell broke loose and now, here was another that seemed to know something I didn't.

"Who are you?" I say after a stunned silence. The question only gets a small smirk out of her.

"I think the better question is who are _you_?" She turned away from me then, chuckling to herself. "Some days, the fates can be too kind."

"What're you talking about?" I said forcefully, growing more on edge with each passing moment.

"When you touch the stone, what did you see?" She shot back just as forcefully, ignoring my questions but I was done playing this game.

"I never said what it was. I never told Fred either. Who are you really working for? Were you the one who sent those things after us?" Her eyes narrow at how I refer the gargoyles but she goes on unperturbed.

"What did you see? Ancient battles long past? Fighting in a different time, a different age?" How could she know all of this? I grab her by the shoulders and grip them tightly.

"Who are you? Answer me!" The look in her eyes makes me feel as though she may go for my throat any moment, opting to knock my hands away instead.

"Where is the jewel, Remo?" She demanded in a cold tone, still ignoring my questions. Whatever she was playing at, I was done with her game.

"Get out. I don't know who the hell you work for and I don't care." This whole meeting was going south and if Fred really didn't send her, that means I just let the wrong person into my home.

"No." She said as she took another glance out the window. Sunset was almost done but I don't care if she gets mugged at this point. I just want her gone. Grabbing her by the shoulders more firmly this time, push her hard against the door.

"I _wasn't_ asking." Barring her teeth, I can almost hear her growl but my eyes narrow when she smiles.

"And I don't obey humans." Before I can respond to the insane comment, her face contorts in intense pain. She groans as her body begins to change. I can feel it happening under my hands as flesh and bone rearrange themselves. I release her and back away, looking at the horrific scene with wide eyes.

She held her sides and nearly doubled over, supported by leaning against the door. Talons burst from her high-heel shoes, ripping them to pieces. Her slender fingers warped into four claws that looked all too familiar. A tail uncoiled it self from her body. Ridges sprouted from her skull. Wings ripped painfully from her back as her skin darkened to a pale blue. For the second time, I'm face to face with the monster from my nightmares.

Fear grips me like cement to my ankles. She stretches through the remains of her clothes, pieces of the business attire falling like so much confetti off her form. She roars with blood red eyes and still, I can't move. It's not until she rushes forward and grips me by the throat that I can but too late. She pins me against the wall just above the one window. I have just enough time to gasp, getting a good breath before she cuts it off. The plaster and wood give way as she slams me almost through the wall, feeling the bare concrete against my back.

"Now, give me the stone and I may let you live." From the look on her face, that was lie. She wanted to kill me. How could I not see it before? The mannerisms, the voice, it was all there but buried under a human looking shell. Her grip tightens like a vice around my throat and I feel I'm on the verge of passing out. No. I won't. I can't.

Fighting through the mask of fear, I let survival instinct take over. Her claws begin to dig into my neck but I bring an elbow down to the joint of her arm, forcing it to bend and release me but not before she leaves a few choice gashes across the skin. I shut out my nerves as best I can since they will only serve to hinder me now.

Surprise and pain on her face precede anger just before she swipes at me with claws from her right hand but I duck under. I can hear them shred the plaster and wood of the wall behind me as though it were paper.

I rear back as much as I can and send an uppercut to her stomach. She grunts but takes it like it was nothing at all, trying to slash at me again with the left. The claws catch me in the shoulder as I dodge to her side. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out. It feels like she cut right down to the bone without even trying.

I hook her arm to keep those damn talons from cutting me again while kneeing her leg at the joint.

She yelled but I only managed to knock her off balance. Grabbing a handful of red hair, I pull her back only to slam her face first into the glass of the window then once more to dent the metal frame.

Something rams into my leg hard enough to loose my grip and force me to one knee. It takes me a moment to realize it was her tail. Next thing I know, I'm flying into the opposite wall when a wrecking ball hits me square in the chest in the form of a hard backhand and I'm showered with splinters of wood and plaster on impact. Jesus Christ, she's stronger than she looks and _that's_ saying something. She snarls as she turns on me.

"You dare strike me? Filthy human!" I blink a few times to bring the world back into focus, ignoring the taste of liquid copper flooding my mouth.  
She's strong, fast, and certainly not afraid to kill. A deadly combination and one I could admire under different circumstances but like everyone, she's got a weakness. She's arrogant. It's not much of an advantage but in this case, I'll take what I can get.

Pain stabs through my chest as I struggle to my knees. I get two feet before I stagger to the bed. My breathing is heavy, my chest heaving up and down and she can see it. There's a grin on her monstrous features and I can feel it as a talloned foot shoves the one-person bed, nearly knocking me over.

"You are fortunate I need you alive. For now." Well that was news to me. I'd have to think about it after I got out of here alive.

Clutching the bottom of the box springs, I quickly lift the entire bed onto her. The blue demon momentarily disappeared under the mattress, sheets, and shoddy wooden frame. Never thought I'd be thankful this place was so small or she could have flung it away like so much trash but the ends collided with the walls and furniture when she tried.

However, her short temper has worn down when I keep pushing the pile on, claws ripping through it, trying to gut me. All she does is give me a better idea of where to aim. I take out the Glock, which, thankfully hadn't fallen from the impact and shoot her through the debris that was once my bed. Soon, the thrashing begins to die down as I empty the gun into her, round after round until the broken bed slumps still into the corner with her underneath.

I remember what happened the last time we filled this one with holes and I wasn't taking the chance. She may just be knocked out for the time being. Major blood loss in a stressful situation could do that. I move quickly to my secret stash in the floorboard, piling all the guns and ammo into the duffle bag. Had one ready in case I needed to make a quick run but never figured I'd need it, especially while fending off a gargoyle.

I turn away from the body only to place the black gem back in the hidden pocket of my coat and grab another clip, but before I can reload, the remains of my bed are swiftly ripped in half. When she stands, blood is pouring from a dozen different places, her lip curled into a snarl accented by the crimson that stained her fanged teeth. She bled but not nearly enough for someone shot at that close a range but the wounds pissed her off all the same, her eyes flaring with red light. I thought she looked scary before. The blood was receding and the wounds, sealing by themselves.

The chamber click of the pistol seemed to be her signal to lunge just as I lined her in my sights. She feinted to my left, thinking that fear and surprise could rattle my shot. Turns out she's right, three bullets whiz past her as she dodged to my right. A swipe of her claws knocked the gun out from my grasp but I'm lucky to still have a hand when the glock bears the brunt of the swipe, falling to pieces before it hit the wall.

It proves to be another feint as she spins into a kick to my chest and I'm sent flying backwards again. Somehow I manage to hold on to my bag and coat. I go limp, trying to brace myself for the impact against the wall as before but her aim seems to be better than mine when I fly through the remains of the window instead.

I don't know if it's good or bad luck that I'm kicked so hard, I miss hitting the fire escape on my way out. If I did, the rate of speed would have surely broken me in half but now I'm falling five stories to solid concrete. My arms and legs flail helplessly as I try grabbing on to anything to stop the fall but it's no use.

It feels like everything moves in slow motion then as my life flashes before my eyes, seeing in vivid retrospect all the horrible things I've done. To others and myself. I've come to hate the man I was even more until I'm snapped back to reality when I hit the ground.

The impact tosses me around like a rag doll in an earthquake and I know I must be finished. I've died and about to take my spot in hell when a foul smell hits my nose, but it wasn't sulfur. Opening my eyes, I realize trash bags surround me filled with garbage. I'm in the back of a moving garbage truck, which would explain why I was tossed around so much when I hit. Shaking my head, I see my bag and coat have landed a few feet away and everything is still where I left it, including the jewel.

"…You gotta be kidding me." My streak of unbelievable dumb luck continues. Looking over the side, I see my apartment shrinking into the distance but duck down a bit lower when I see the garg-woman poking her head out to see where I landed. She said she wanted me alive but not in good condition it seemed. It wasn't just the jewel she wanted but me as well. The question is why. She was more than willing to take the stone and leave but I had to open my big mouth and ask questions. She knew more about what was happening than I. That was a growing trend in these last couple of days.

I have to find Fred.

The truck came to a stop after a half hour or so. I could have hopped out any time but I thought it best to get some distance from my former apartment before I got off. We were five or so miles away when we came to a stop. Hopping out, I see we've ended up name of district here.

The duffle bag slung over my shoulder, I walk down the street, looking for a pay phone that hasn't been vandalized in this part of town yet. That beast said she spoke to Fred but if that were true, that would mean either he sold me out or he's dead and while I hate to bank on the latter, Fred would never sell me for a few lousy grand. I get to a phone still in one piece and dial his number.

"Call me. Twenty minutes. Torasco bar." I said to his answering machine on a number I knew was secure since it was one I only called in case of emergencies. I don't have time for codes or mixed messages.

Heading inside the pub, the place was a hole in the wall where a small number of people met for private conversations. No one but the tender here tonight so I have a seat and order a whiskey, straight up and keep the bottle. The small TV in the corner of the ceiling was playing the news. As I expected, the cops were just getting there but so were the fire department.

"Hey, could you turn that up?" Said to the tender as he grabbed the remote and cranked up the volume.

_Once again, for those just joining us, emergency response teams are giving reports of numerous injuries at an apartment building in insert name here where a blaze has erupted from one of the fifth story apartments_. The news anchor said. _Tenants who escaped the fire say they heard gunshots in another apartment and sounds of a struggle before an explosion occurred and started the fire. Police are reporting three casualties so far and the resident of said apartment, Remo Xenon, is yet to be found. Police believe Xenon may be connected to, or have information regarding the explosion and aforementioned struggle and are looking to detain him for questioning._

"Wonderful. They couldn't even get my damn name right." I said solemnly as they posted my picture asking for any information to my whereabouts. The bar tender doesn't even bat an eyelash in my direction after seeing my photo. Crooks and criminals step through these doors all the time and it would be bad for business to start confessing. Not to mention bad for health. I can see from the live footage, detective Maza arrived there in the background as some fat captain said something to the reporter, working the scene before the flames were put out.

She was going to be all over this like a pit bull on a side of beef and won't let go until she's got me in cuffs. I absently take a sip of the whiskey and am quickly reminded of my injuries as the liquid burns in my mouth. At least it washes away most of the blood but damn does it sting. The inside of my jaw is torn up from the backhand to the mouth and my ribs felt bruised from the kick. All in all, I gave as well as I got and I can brag about throwing down with a gargoyle.

I take another gulp of whiskey, ignoring the pain and concentrating on the warmth. Before long, I hear a ring coming from outside from the pay phone. Paying for the drink, I grab my bag and answer it.

"Fred?" For a moment, there's no answer. "Fred, you there?" I really hope he's not trying to be funny at a time like this.

"Who is this?" A voice asks but it's not Fred and fear takes a hold of my heart. I'd heard it before, back in the warehouse when it called to its mother.

"Right back at you." I said, the warning in my tone eliciting a laugh from him.

"If you're looking for Freddy, I'm afraid he's permanently preoccupied." I wince, able to figure out what he meant.

"You're going to pay for that." My grip tightens so much on the receiver I can hear it crack. "I'm going to find out just how durable you flying fucks really are."

"Save your idle threats, human. Give up the stone and no more need die." There's no hint of amusement left in his growling voice. "Give up the stone or you _will_ be next." The line goes dead.

I stand there; listening to the dial tone, anger building up. I raise my fist to the pay phone but stop. I take a few deep breaths, trying to stave off the violent urge that was boiling over. I contain it, push it down, and force myself to dial another number. Five rings later, a man answers. There's dance music playing in the background and he has to speak over it.

"Thanks for calling the Rhapsody. You got Ken." I take another breath to keep my voice to a normal tone.

"…Ken, it's me." For a few moments, I hear nothing but the party music as he comes down from the shock of hearing my voice after three years.

"Remo?"

"Yeah. You know why I'm calling." There's another pause.

"…What happened, man?"

"I'll explain when I get there. Have it ready." Ken is still trying to talk to me but I'm already hanging up. My fists clench so tightly they begin to bleed. Those things killed Fred just to get to me. He wouldn't have given the info willingly so they probably put him through hell before the end. I can't hold it in any longer, taking out my anger on the pay phone until the ripped receiver was all that you could recognize.

_Boohoo, poor sad Remo misses his fat friend?_

"…Shut up."

_Old fast fingers Freddy just wasn't fast enough huh?_

"Shut! Up!"

_Real tough guy over the phone, you are_ Leaning my head against a street light, I close my eyes and attempt to shut him out, trying to block him or bottle him up as my rage a few moments ago but he only laughs.

_Remo just stop. You're embarrassing yourself_

"What do you want!?"

_For you to stop acting like a child and make good on your threats_

"…They killed him."

_I know. What are you going to do about it_ He asks me. I try again to shut him out but I don't have the strength.

_I said what are you going to do about it! _

"…What I do best…the only thing I'm good at…" I choke out the words. Ones I never wanted to say ever again.

_Good boy, now get to work_

An hour or so later, I arrive at the Rhapsody. Took me so long since I had to walk and avoid numerous cops looking for me. From an electronics store, I can still hear the news feeds spitting information at me about my involvement in the fire that tore down the entire building. No casualties thanks 'a few of the city's winged protectors, the gargoyles.' I could laugh if things weren't so bleak. Winged protectors my ass. Maybe those Quarrymen have the right idea.

I'm a few blocks away from the club that made the place I worked looked like a joke. The Powerline was popular, but this place was where the cool kids weren't allowed. Most people that came to our night spot meant you could flaunt your status in a little atmosphere but getting into the Rhapsody meant you truly had it made. All the biggest stars and moguls of movies, music, fashion, and anything else that involved glitz and glamour in New York came here to really have a good time.

It was the one place that made the personal guarantee anything that happens within those walls will never see the light of day. Making that kind of promise was easy. Keeping it was another matter entirely. Something Ken was apparently more than up for.

The crowds are outside already, like a red carpet event, they waited on pins and needles for the celebrities to arrive. The building looks smaller on the outside than it actually is; six floors as a matter of fact but only three of them could be seen. Outside, the circular design of the building gave it the illusion of a stadium. Two-way mirrors supplemented as the glass to doors and windows to the bottom level and part of the second, making a yin-yang effect when it switched to glass so darkly tinted, you couldn't see through them if you were an inch away at the rest of the second half.

The reflective mirrors at the bottom gave off a stunning illusion during a clear day that the upper half was floating, making it look all the more illustrious for the poor folks that couldn't make the cover charge. There was a landing pad installed two weeks ago for those that wanted to be really flashy and arrive by helicopter, which they sometimes did. Fucking posers.

This is where the A-lists played like they didn't care who knew it. Just some of the rumors I've heard from here could give the paparazzi a hard-on so how does someone keep the secrets of what goes on in a place like this.

I climb over the chain link fence that surrounds the outer perimeter of the club, fifty yards out in the group of trees Ken had planted to better conceal the place from any guilty parties looking to get a snapshot of the latest Hollywood scandal, and I do it in full view of the camera installed on one of the fence posts. No razor wire since it would give off the wrong kind of vibe in a party atmosphere. I get five yards before a red dot appears on my chest, stopping me in my tracks. I slowly take my hands out of my pockets and hold them away from my sides.

"I'm a friend of the owner." I said, looking around for the source of the laser sight. "Kenneth should be expecting me."

There's no reply, just quiet for thirty seconds by my count. I glance down at the dot and have to marvel at how absolutely still it is. No shaky hand from this guy, whoever he is. Then, I hear footsteps coming towards me, not heavy or rushed. Simply moving at a steady pace. I still can't see anyone until they're ten feet from me.

"Mr. Xenhon?" A feminine voice said. I finally saw her, still holding a silenced Glock 18 on me. Good weapon. Long range although I'm surprised to see its owner was a beautiful raven-haired woman. Her ebony skin was as smooth as silk as was her hair she had tied in a ponytail. She walked steadily towards me, looking to be in her late twenties, early thirties.

"Yeah." I sighed out. "You mind not pointing that at me? I'm already full of holes as is." Despite that fact, I can't help but stare. The black clothes she wore were a shade darker than mine if that were possible, accounting for why I couldn't spot her even with the lights flashing from the front. Combat boots made the fantasy complete as she holstered the weapon and motioned for me to follow her.

"What happened to you?" She said, looking over the gashes around my neck.

"Got in a fight with an old girlfriend." She snorts, obviously not believing me.

"You win?" She asked anyway.

"Oh yeah." I said. "I don't look like a winner to you?"

She didn't want to know more than she had to. I had to guess this was the reason no reporters or photographers made it past the front gate; mercenaries for hire. I imagine she's ex-military with a liking of the social scene and she wasn't the only one out here. Probably a dozen or so I couldn't see.

Her outfit was nothing formal; a jacket over a long sleeve shirt that hugged her body. It was cold out here but she hid that fact under a sports bra in case she had to do any running. The pants she wore looked like the same tight material of her shirt. They looked normal enough to be mistaken as any other outfit but were made simply for combat. Tightly fitting around the person's body but optimizing movement when fighting. Also, there was the body it was attached to. She could easily distract a man (or even woman) enough to gain the upper hand over those that can be swayed. Like myself for instance.

"Ow!" As we walk through the trees, a stray branch hits me in the face when I watch her, more than where I'm going. I turn to see her smirk as she eyes me over her shoulder. She knows what she's doing. I know she's not wearing any underwear.

We pass the small distance to the club soon enough and take the side entrance through the kitchen which was always open, always busy. She leads me past chefs and cooks preparing numerous meals that go out all over the building. The heat from hot stoves and boiling water hits me in the face as soon as we walk in but we don't stay long as she leads me to a service elevator and steps inside.

I'm hoping he's going to meet me at the top floor but when she reaches for the red button, there's no such luck. The button was marked with an H. Ken's idea of symbolism. There was subtle Japanese writing on the doors as they closed that read _abandon all hope ye who enter here_. At least his sense of humor hasn't dulled over the years.

The descent isn't a long one, taking us down into the bowels of the club and I can hear the moaning already. While the top three floors were all food, drink, music, and dancing, the bottom levels were sex, depravity, and an all around good time. The legal aspects of Ken's business were all above ground while everything else, came down here where his more unsocial VIPs came to relax.

I've been down here only once when it was nothing more than an empty basement with leaky pipes and cold floors when Ken told me what he had planned. Things change I thought as the doors opened to a wide, open room with a marble floor and white stone for the walls, pillars of the same material giving a Romanesque feel to it. We walked down small flight of stairs descended from a platform of marble just in front of the elevator.

A bar on one side served patrons occupied with small talk to the person sitting next to them. One the other, a man and woman were attracting a watchful crowd as she lay on the white couch with the man's head buried between her legs, shuddering with the onset of an orgasm.

I could see the motif was meant to amuse but all the damn white was making me glad I was still wearing my glasses, otherwise I'd probably have a pretty big headache about now. Miss mercenary continued to lead me, past the groups of people variously dressed in robes, tight-fitting leather and chains, all kinds of various costumes, or absolutely nothing at all. This seemed to be a waiting lounge for those who couldn't get a room.

We came to a hallway that branched off into an intersection of doors, all unmarked for the most part and completely identical except for the room number. She led me to the left corridor, passing by numerous doors. From the ones we passed, all manner of sounds could be heard from the default sounds of sex to yelling and whimpering, whips being cracked, and noise of entire groups having a grand old time. Some peeked their heads out from time to time and I got a glimpse to confirm what was going on.

Once we got to the end of the hall, we turned left and came to a door where the handle was replaced by a keypad and the entrance had a small camera overhead. It was easy to miss for someone not looking. She entered an access code and the door clicked open to a small spiral stairwell. She motioned for me to go alone. She must have had other things to attend to.

"Call me?" I turn to say just as I enter in.

"In your dreams." She said, raising an eyebrow at me with a smirk.

"Where you'll be wearing that outfit, I hope." I utter as she closes the door behind me. At the bottom, I came out to a small security office and dressed in a dark suit with a red silk shirt, there was Kenneth Zumanda to greet me. He doesn't look sad to see me but he sure doesn't look happy about it either.

"Long time no see, little dragon." He says, calling me by an old nickname.

"Not so little anymore."

"Yeah, I can see that. Then again, you never were." There's a pause when he sees the cuts on my neck. "So what happened?"

"Nothing I can tell you about and certainly nothing that the cops will believe." Probably why we couldn't meet in his office on the top floor.

"Are you sure? I know you've got a history but—"

"Ken, I don't have time. Fred's dead." He blinks at the news.

"…Who? Why?" I shake my head.

"I can't explain. Believe me, the less you know about any of this, the better off you'll be. I just need a few things, and my stash." Ken's eyes look away. I can see the wheels turning in his head as he considers asking more questions but decides against it.

"Alright." Getting up, he moves behind the large desk and pulls out a key and a cell phone. "The address in on the phone once it comes up. You had too much stuff to stash around here so I hid it with an old location I used to use." Taking the items, I eye the cell phone.

"One of your specialties?" He nodded with a grin.

"Can store as much information as a desktop, call anywhere in the US for free, is completely untraceable. Best of all, because I know you…" He shows me a button in the center. "…If you're arrested or captured, you can erase everything by pressing this. All the calls you made, any made to you, and any messages you received with disappear."

"Cool. This thing got a number?" He shrugs.

"Yeah, but it changes with every call. That's what makes it hard to trace but if someone really needs to call you, they can dial 555-5555." I eye him a moment.

"You're kidding."

"Hey, I can't make _everything_ brilliant about it." I chuckle to myself. Kenneth has always been an inventor. We met when I first got out of the Reapers and he needed help from some resident loan sharks that were too impatient to give him another day. Inventing never got him anywhere but when he got the idea for the club, it took off since he could build all his own equipment.

"You got any safe houses I can sleep without leaving one eye open?"

"Need one in the city?" I nod. "Carol street a mile or so from here. Ask for Oleg. Just drop my name and he can put you up."

Running a legitimate business was more work and money than he'd expected though so he built a bordello underneath. Don't ask me how he got the idea. Said something about rich losers like him needing sex. The extra money from that drew in some huge flies, namely a few daring Hollywood superstars who told two friends and they told two friends and just like that, Kenny became the most popular, red-haired Japanese geek I'd ever known.

"Thanks. Where's Damon?" He moves past me to the stairs.

"Follow me."

Another bunch of twists and turns later, we end up in a parking garage where all the guests can stash their million dollar vehicles. The place is a carjacker's wet dream with dozens of cars ranging from classic restored cars to Lamborghinis in every color. Just one of these cars could end my money troubles for the next few years but I push the thought away. It was that kind of thinking that got me into this mess in the first place.

All the money he raked in with this place and the special section underneath, Ken could afford to put it underground so we're next to the front door but right underneath the people's feet. He led me to a private section in the garage where a group of four vehicles were parked in a row; a yellow dodge viper, silver-chrome Lotus Elise, blood red BMW M6, and a black Humvee, all looked brand new. I had to whistle as I came in.  
"All yours?" I ask Ken who gives me a nod and a prideful smirk.

"And occasionally my girlfriends when they need a ride." Modest? He doesn't know the meaning of the word and neither would I if I had the things he did. He offered me the position of bouncer when he heard I was working for Powerline but I turned him down. By that time, I'd had settled myself in and made a few friends but he told me the door was always open for me.

"I made a few modifications though." He said with a shrug.

"I can just guess what kind." He glances at me and shakes his head.

"No. You can't." Which is all he gives me, alluding that what lies behind the paint and steel is something even seasoned street racers have never seen. I decide not to ask anymore. He brings me behind the cars and pulls the tarp off what I came for.

Damon is the name of the Ducati motorcycle I left with him a year or so ago and just how can a guy in my position afford a Ducati? Simple, I can't. My head tilts at the flame decals running from front to back, stopping at the engine. I glance back at him.

"Kenny, what the hell did you do to my baby?"

"Nothing much. Just a few modifications."

"Your modifications are never just a few."

"Nothing major, I swear. Just a rotating license plate, a detachable GPS system, a radar detector and scrambler, and a few ports to store the numerous weapons I know you're sure to have in case you have to run and gun."

"Nothing major huh?" I shake my head and check the engine. He's kept it in shape I'll give him that. I notice a silver-looking cylinder jutting out from some added hardware and parts. There was another on the other side. "Are these what I think they are?"

"I had a feeling when you came back for her, it wouldn't be to get your license so these will get you the speed incase you have to make a fast getaway. Just…try to have a clear stretch of road when you engage it, or at least try to try, Remo." I nod while slipping onto the seat. Controls and such may have changed but the feel was the same.

"Nice. What about my other stuff?" Ken sighs deeply at the question.

Remo…if the cops catch you with all that hardware, it's going to be life this time. The kind without the possibility of parole." He sounded concerned.

"I know Ken, but I still need them. The…people that killed Fred, I'm not sure how high up on the food chain they go if they were able to find him. I'll need to be ready for anything and I got a few hundred bullets with their names on them."

"Do you even know their names?"

"Just one and I know it's an alias but I got a face to go with it." I gave him what info I had on the name and the face, making sure to describe the human side in great detail but leaving out the portion where she turned blue and sprouted wings and a tail. Ken had a mind like a steel trap so I knew he could remember it all.

"I'll do what I can. I'll get your other stuff delivered to the safe house. Meanwhile, you just stay alive and try not to do anything stupid. I know you're pissed but you can't let your temper control you."

"Come on Kenny, you know me." I start the engine on Damon and she purrs like a kitten. "I mean, do I seem like the easily angered type to you?" Before he could answer, I speed off.

I spend some time just riding around the city now. Just clearing my head while still avoiding the police. This is the first time I've worn a helmet in years but there's no better time for safety.

Manhattan is a hell of a town in one hell of a state and driving around at night reminded me of the first time I came here with nothing but the clothes on my back and this bike between my legs, feeling almost overwhelmed at how huge and alive this place was. It was similar to Los Angeles in a lot of ways but definitely not the same.

New York wasn't something you could just see in magazines or TV and get the full perspective. No, this was a place you had to see with your own eyes up close and personal and feel underneath your feet. It was only then you could understand why they call it the Big Apple.

I wanted to believe I had no place left after what happened in LA but I carved a hole in this town and made it mine. A place where I could lay my head without having to sleep with one eye open, not that I had restful nights to begin with but you get the point.

Things were so screwed up. The cops were after me along with gargoyles and I didn't have time to get caught and play innocent so I needed to lay low for a time. Avoid the heat until I could dig for some information on this woman, this thing that kept coming after me. She wanted the stone and me but the question was why. Why did she need me alive? What did my brand have to do with her decision to capture me? How did she and Vicki know I had nightmares and that I saw visions through the stone?

Too many questions and not enough answers. Kenny will run a trace on the name and spread the word on the face. I knew he'd have something for me soon. The only thing left to do was wait and I was hardly in the mood for rest. Hell, I've never felt so jumpy but I knew I'd just be wasting time trying to find out anything now. Sun was coming up so nothing left to do but get to the safe house and grab some non-peaceful sleep.

My eyes open to the sound of ringing in my ears. Lifting my head from the wooden board of the bed, I see it's the phone Ken gave me. Apparently, sleep wasn't in the cards for me last night. I couldn't help another peek at the stone and this time, I was zipped away to another battle. I remember everything clearly this time as I played the part of Leonidas in a place called Thermopylae. I head about it in a movie once. The Last Samurai I think, where I or he, along with three-hundred Spartans, defended their home to the last man against an army of millions. This vision wasn't as heroic as the last since I swear I could feel hundreds blades pierce my skin when the last battle was fought. There was something... beautiful about knowing your fate and having comrades there to help you see it through; something that takes unbelievable bravery. Reaching over to the nightstand, I check the ID and see it's him.

"Yeah?"

"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey."

"You got something?" I said irritably. I may not have technically slept but I still felt like I had and this time, I at least had the good sense to get into bed when I looked at the gem.

"Well someone's certainly cranky when in the mornings."

"Cut the shit Ken. You got something or not?"

"Alright, alright. Got nothing on the name you gave me but I may have something on the redhead. She travels in certain circles and has gone by a ton of different aliases. From what I've heard, she's into some high profile stuff. Mainly weapons dealing and military applications. Hell, most of the tech I use probably fell off her trucks but I still can't get a definite name."

"Wonderful. So what do you have?" Rubbing my eyes from the sunlight shining through the blinds, I grab my shades and put them on. The safe house Ken told me about was an old motel run by a guy he paid off to store my gear and give me a secluded room. Old man Harrison he said to call him. He was putting me up for however long I need so who was I to argue.

"Not a lot. I have a few names of people she's dealt with and narrowed it down to the ones most likely to talk to you."

"Alright, make me a list and I'll drive by to get it."

"Done and no need. All the info's been uploaded to your cell." I blink and look at the screen of the cell phone, a mail icon telling me I've got a message.

"You're brilliant, Kenny."

"Tell me something I don't know." Ken hangs up, leaving me to eye the list of names on the small screen. It's a short list all things considered so I'll need to squeeze whatever info I can from the lucky contestants.

Getting out of bed, I take a quick shower and get dressed. I can see from the sinking sun, I slept later than I thought which was good. Means I'll have no excuses for getting tired. I look in the mirror while I change the bandages on the gashes. Harrison did a pretty good job of stitching me up. He'd had a lot of practice at this it seemed and I was grateful I wouldn't have to constantly stop the bleeding and having even more eyes on me. I change the bandages and apply more disinfectant before slipping on my other gear.

The stash I asked Ken to send here, the one that had him so worried, was just an old weapons cache he helped me hide a while back. Nothing major since I figured I'd never need them. A Calico SMG, two Ingram M10s, two Beretta 93Rs. Some heavier artillery in the way of a FAMAE S.A.F, two MP5s, Jackhammer and Protecta shotguns, and a Colt rifle in case things got hectic. Last but not least, good old Michelle. She's one that's never let me down yet but I'd have to save her for something special. Hopefully I won't need them but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't good to feel my old partners in my hands again. The smell of gun oil and the sound of bullets clicking into place were familiar and made me feel right at home.

Outside, I pass the front desk to guzzle down a few pints of that rancid swill he calls coffee. Tastes like crap but I don't have tome to eat. Harrison's sitting at the desk watching Frasier on a small Panasonic but tears his eyes away from the tube long enough to glance in my direction.

"You ain't staying?"

"I am."

"Where you headin'?"

"Sun's down so I s'pose I'm going to make a few friends." He snorts and gives me a look.

"You come back, don't tack no blood or whatnot through the floors. Anything you carry with you better not do the same. You get spotted or chased by cops, do me a favor and don't come back here. You get caught or die, you're stuff's stayin' with me." He said so plainly, it sounded like he were listing chores but I nod.

"Noted."

Hopping on Damon, I'm off into the city, following the list of names and locations. Keeping to the trail Ken got for me, it came as a surprise when most of Red's partners were willing to give up the info I needed. Apparently, while she paid well, she wasn't the nicest woman to deal with and left many partnerships with those she'd considered unworthy of her time with burned bridges so I didn't have to work as hard as I thought, only expending energy dodging cops and places where my face was likely to inspire a good samaritan to do his civic duty.

One contact in particular gave me some in for on someone who was sure to give me some information on miss Jane Doe badass. Some Scotsman said to live in the hills. A good distance away but I could make the trip. Just hopped he was in the mood to talk at such a late hour. It was close to nine at night when I found the place, a castle of all things, wreathed in the light of a full moon. Spooky to say the least but I went on, stopping my bike at the front gate.  
A breeze blew past, wind howling like a wolf at the moon and giving this place the feel of something out of a bad horror movie.

I made it to the door without being jumped by any wolf men or vampires so that was a good sign. Knocking on the door, I lean against the stone frame and eye the castle up and down from where I was. The place was expensive. Must have set the owner back at least a few million since it looked built by hand. He must have been the rich entrepreneur type; a wealthy eccentric who loved to astonish and amaze and show just how much money he has. Prick.

The door opened faster than I expected, thinking that even a maid or butler would take a while to get there but just a crack, or as much as the chain lock would allow. The man eyeing me with suspicion looked to be in his forties, with a rugged white beard and hair, and a steely gaze that most men his age seemed to have. This one wasn't afraid of the devil himself.

"Who are you?" He asked in a Scottish accent.

"Are you Lennox MacDuff?"

"I believe I asked you first, laddie."

"My name's Jason Wynn," I lied. "I'm sorry to bother you at so late a time but I was wondering if you could help me."

"…I'm afraid I'm not in the habit of letting strangers into my home. If it's a broken car you're going on about, there's a gas station down the road." His eyes narrowed at the mention of the fake name as if he knew already who I was.

"Listen, I'm not asking to use your phone. I'm here about someone who's after me. A red haired businesswoman who likes to fly at night." His head tilted up as I mention her, looking me over as if assessing how much of a threat I am.

"I'll ask again. Who are you? The truth this time."

"...Remo Xenhon, ex-convict and accused arsonist. Anything else you want to know?"

"Can you see with those bloody things on?" He said referring to my sunglasses.

"Better than most as a matter of fact."

"Why do _you_ want to find her?" He asked, apparently unperturbed by my answers so far.

"She took out a friend of mind, torched my home and to be absolutely frank, I want to kill the bitch." I may have to kick the door in and beat the info out of the old man. I didn't like beating up on people who didn't deserve it or couldn't defend themselves, but if I had to, I would. He closed the door, and just when I think he's reaching for a phone or a weapon, I hear the chain lock being slid out of place and the door opens up completely.

"Blast, not another one. Come in." That caught me by surprise but I try not to let it show, walking through the door, I see he's wearing a green sweater, grey slacks, and what looked like some expensive looking Italian loafers in spit-shinned black. However, when I look around his home, his clothes didn't matter. Once inside, the place looked more like an art museum than a home. A grand stairwell that led to the upper floor had its walls adorned with priceless paintings and portraits. The floor was littered with various suits of armor and weapons incased in glass along with numerous stone busts and sculptures. I could only imagine what the rest of the place looked like. As the heavy oak door closed behind me, I was snapped out my momentary daze.

"Are you saying I'm not the only one?"

"Aye, and likely not to be the last." He said, walking towards what looked like a lounge.

"Oh, I don't know about that."

"There's a lot you don't know nor would you care too, lad."

"I think I'll be the judge of that and speaking of things I don't know, how 'bout giving me her name?"

"You wouldn't happen to be connected to anyone named Canmore would you?" He asked after a small pause.

"Who?" I said with genuine confusion, which seemed to satisfy him.

"Never mind. So how has she wronged you?"

"I told you already." I said, getting a little irritated. "She killed a friend of mine, torched my place, and apparently seems to be after me." He raised an eyebrow at that last bit.

"Really? And why is she after you?" I take a seat on the small couch in next to the rather large fireplace. There was a small bar across the room where he took out some glasses. "Drink?"

"Constantly. Strongest you've got." I realize I haven't had a good drink since that night at the Powerline. Probably for the best since I needed to be focused. "You still haven't given me that name though." MacDuff continued to make drinks passing an amused glance at me. I was getting sick of that look.

"Just what makes you think she can be killed? You've already fought her once, I see." He says, glancing at the bandages on my throat. "And it's a miracle you're still alive. More importantly," He handed me a glass of Scotch, opting to stand a few feet away. "What does she want with you?"

"Hell if I know." I guzzle down the offered drink with one gulp. "She comes to my place, under a fake name, sprouts wings, and tries to tear me a few new holes. Said I was lucky she needed me alive." This one obviously knew more than the others. More than just rumors and whispers, so it may be best to play his game of Q & A. "As for if I think I can kill her? Hell, there's a lot of ways for a person to buy it these days. I'll just have to keep killing her 'till I find one that works."

I didn't notice it until now but this man had a build most guys my age would kill for. He kept in shape to say the least and that steely look suggested he'd seen his fair share of combat and feared very little in this world. He certainly wasn't afraid of me, giving a hearty laugh at my response.

"You've got courage lad, I'll give you that, but it will not be enough to destroy her."  
"You've tried?"

"And failed many times over. In my time, I've learned revenge never settled anything but simply caused more pain. You should heed the warnings and let it go."

"Thanks for the advice. Now give me a damn name."

He affixed a hard stare on me but I didn't waver. I've come too far to be stopped now, especially not by a stubborn old man. "And what exactly do you plan to do if I refuse?"

I stand slowly out of my seat, placing the empty glass on the floor. "I'd rather not have things go the hard way, but like I said, I need that name." He snorts, moving to sit down across from me.

"Don't threaten me, boy. I've been through worse pups than you on a good day." I had to smirk at his bravery and I was honestly curious as to how good he really was. "Besides, you may not know, care, or appreciate it, but I'm saving your life and likely the lives of those you value." He sipped the expensive Brandy from the glass. "So if there's nothing else, I'll be asking you to either shoot me with one of the guns in your coat, or leave."

So he saw them after all. There's a tense moment between us, looking into his eyes, I can see something more there; something I can't explain. My gut says he knows more than he's telling me. A lot more. I give him a casual shrug. "…Okay." In a quick draw that would make Doc Holiday proud, I drew the Beretta and fired.

The round caught him square in the chest and hit him hard enough to knock him and the chair backwards to the floor. I feel bad about shooting him like that but he _did_ ask for it. The round was non-lethal. Another little gift from Ken was a box of rubber bullets that were small enough to go in your average pistol but soft enough so they just really hurt like hell when they hit you. Hopefully, it just knocked the wind out of the old guy.

I turn around to look for something to tie him up. I get two feet away and suddenly I feel someone grab me by the arms and nearly pull me off my feet. It couldn't be. Even I couldn't get up from a shot to the chest that fast.

"Wrong choice, lad." One hand clamped around my throat with a death grip. "And bad form, shooting a defenseless old man." Getting a hold of his thumb, I pry his hand from my neck but wasn't fast enough to stop the punch to the kidney. I nearly double over but he spins me around to face him, slamming his palm into my chest, knocking the wind out of me. I'm too dazed to duck under the backspin kick that hits me in the jaw. The kick spins me around and knocks my glasses off but I'm kept from falling to the ground when I fall into the cold stone of the wall.

I try to draw on him again but he proves to be faster than he looks, kicking the gun from my grasp. This man is definitely no joke. I throw a punch but it's as if I'm moving in slow motion as he catches the blow. He chops the joint, sending stabbing pain through the whole limb. I try again, using the other arm but again, he catches it and I'm hit once more, a left hook and back hand impact across my head faster than I could blink. I'm on shaky knees when MacDuff grabs me by the scruff of my coat and throws me to the floor like a child.

Defenseless old man my ass. The guy could give Mike Tyson training tips. I'm thrown a few feet away. It takes me a few moments to get back to my feet. Disarmed and bleeding from the nose and mouth, I glare at him, shaking my head to stop the damn room from spinning. Focusing my eyes, I can see he's not wearing body armor that makes his miraculous recovery all the more strange. I look towards the entrances, expecting to see guards or security.

"What, no backup? We're making an awful lot of noise."

Again, he snorts with a smug smirk. "If I needed them lad, they'd be here."

I smile right back. "I suggest you start screaming."

He laughs. "Just what do you think is going to happen different?"

I wasn't ready for a fight like that from this one but I'm ready now. We move towards one another. I throw a punch but my blows are clumsy in comparison to his. It's as if he can see what's coming before I can think it. MacDuff catches my arm and pulls me into a half nelson. I try to elbow him in the face but he moves too quick, blocking it and holding it behind my back. Damn, he's fast.

I muster as much strength as I can and reach behind my head. Getting a hold of two of his fingers, I pull. We both strain against one another but I break his grip. I send an elbow hard into his jaw that barely fazes him. I turn, throwing another punch his way but he blocks it and tries to hit me with another hard backhand. I back step and he misses me by half an inch. Grabbing him in a headlock and we tumble into the expensive looking curtains.

I try to ignore the pain as he lands shot after shot into my sides and pull the red satin sheets down, tearing the bronze pole from it's perch with the effort. I wrap the torn piece of curtain around his head and lift a knee hard into what I'm pretty sure is his nose. I knew he might have trouble breathing through the thick sheets but I had to chance it. It occurred if he got free, I might not be able to take him in fair fight so I'll have to keep things unfair.

He continued to struggle with getting the curtain from his head while I landed another blow to it. Macduff swung blindly at me but I duck under and get behind him. Still keeping him in that headlock, I managed to land two more punches on his white-haired jaw before he finally tore the sheet into pieces to get it off him in a string of curses. Some, in languages I'd never heard.

I had to imagine he would be plenty pissed and looking to get his hands on me but I had to keep the scales tipped my way. Reaching down, I picked up the bronze curtain rod, noting it was nice and heavy. As MacDuff finally tore off the last piece, I swung like Sammy Sosa at a home run pitch. _CLANG!_ Even with the curtains still partially attached, the rod mad quite the impact on the Scotsman's skull.

There were a few lines of blood running from his nose and the shot to the head put him on shaky legs this time when the impact threw him in a daze. Not wanting to lose the momentum, I take the rod and place it behind his head to pull him into a hard head butt. He ended up covered in red sheets once more just before a kick to the gut sent him into a glass cabinet filled with trinkets I didn't recognize. MacDuff hit the cabinet and fell to the floor in a shower of glass and porcelain.

For the moment, he was down, trying to pick himself up from the piles of debris but I won't make the same mistake of turning my back on him. At least until I was sure he wouldn't get back up. Walking over after collecting my pistol, I lean over him.

"Anything to say _now_, old man?" All I got was a groan in response and a little movement under the heavy curtain. He can't have anything left at least not enough to stand especially after that shot to the head so I lean over him and remove the curtain from his head. "Damn it, just tell me what you know and I'll be out of your Grk!"

My words were cut short when his hand shot out to clamp around my throat. His eyes open and he looks pissed. Feels like he's about to crush my windpipe as he starts to rise.

"…Those were my favorite curtains." I think about what I can do to break his grip but he need only flick his wrist to break my neck or leave me mute for the rest of my life. My mind races through options but it begins to go blank, along with my vision when I start to pass out. I drop to a knee as his grip tightens and start to feel light-headed. Luckily, it looks as though he doesn't want to kill me although the look in his eyes made it slightly difficult to tell. I wasn't going to wait and find out. Forcing myself back to my feet, my hands weakly pry as his but his grip just gets tighter.

_Okay, plan B,_ I think just before rearing back and kicking him in the crotch. Steel-toed boots were something amazing when used the right way. His hand loosens immediately but he doesn't fall over like I thought he would.

Gritting his teeth, he growls and comes at me again. I try to fight back but this time, I'm too dizzy to keep up a decent defensive. He effortlessly parried every attack with simple but efficient punches and kicks. Finally decided to ending it with a head butt of his own, knocking me to the floor once again but this time, my limbs refused to function and I couldn't pull myself back up. Darkness took over my sight as I finally passed out. Beaten up by a geriatric. I'm never going to live this one down.

I awoke with a start but feel my limbs still refuse to move. I'm glad to see it's because I'm tied up and not dead. That nightmare still refuses to leave me even in a pain-induced slumber. Taking in my surroundings, I can see I'm still inside the castle but in another room. Not too far away from where I was knocked out. I can hear MacDuffs voice. It's faint but I can tell he's talking to someone on the phone. I strain against the ropes holding me against an old oak chair that looked to be hand-carved, but they're too tight. I can barely shift enough to the small knife in my coat. Hidden pockets are cool.

As quietly as I can, I start to cut at my bonds after flipping the blade open with my teeth while trying to listen to the conversation at the same time. He's talking to someone about me, no doubt. Most likely the cops but it doesn't sound like a man angry because some punk shot him. If I didn't know any better, he was trying to plead a case for me. Something about wanting revenge and knowing how I felt. Then there were two names mentioned. One I knew and one I didn't. Demona and Maza. So he knew the detective personally. That most certainly did not bode well. She may be in league with these things.

Demona. The name was memorized instantly. The ropes around my wrist were cut and the rest on my arms and legs soon followed and not a moment too soon. MacDuff had finished his conversation and was heading back to check on me. I stood but with a throbbing headache, no longer in a proper shape to go ten more rounds with this man but I got what I needed. At least I hope so. Moving quietly to one of the stained glass windows, I open it and slip away.

It takes me some time to get back to the motel, not knowing just how long I've been out, I take out the phone and realizing it's been off the entire time. The old man barely glances my way when I come through the door.

"You got any booze?" I ask. He eyes me a moment before reaching behind the counter and producing a small bottle of Captain Morgan's spiced rum. Good, I can use something to knock the taste of blood out of my mouth.

Heading back to my room, I feel sore all over from the beating I took and it would likely get worse tomorrow but my phone vibrates with alerts of eight messages and ten missed calls. Ken was the only one who knew I had this phone so he must have something urgent for me. I dial him up and there's only one ring before he answers.

"Remo?" Something was definitely wrong and I could hear it in his voice.

"Yeah. What's up?"

"Where the hell have you…!" He took a breath. "It's not important. If you're near a TV, turn to the news. Right now."

I blink but do as he asks, turning the motel Magnavox to channel six. What I see forces me to drop the bottle of rum to the floor, shattering in a spray of glass. I turn up the volume quickly.

_Repeating our top story for this evening, a nightclub known as _The Powerline_ erupted in flames this evening. Apparently an electrical fire started and quickly spread to the bottles of alcohol in a storage room at the bottom of the building. The room exploded and engulfed the rest of the building in flames. There are no casualties reported as yet but one person is missing. A Melissa Imari, seen here, was supposedly working this evening but has yet to be found. Police and arson investigators are still working on the direct cause of the fire but—_

I turn it off, not needing to hear the rest. I know what the cause was, but my place of now-previous employment being burned to the ground paled in comparison to who was missing. Melissa. Meanwhile, Ken is yelling for me to answer him over the phone. Slowly, I put the receiver to my ear.

"…Yeah…I'm here."

"She's that friend you told me about, isn't she?"

"Yeah." She's innocent in all of this and now she'd become a bargaining chip. I knew she was still alive. They'd use her to lure me to them.

"Jesus Remo. What the fuck is going on?" For a few moments, I don't answer. Going over the whole situation in my head, it still barely seems real to _me, _but if Ken were going to stick with me, he had to know the whole story. So, I give it to him with every detail. When I'm done, I hear silence over the line for a time.

"…Well…this makes a lot more sense then. I think."

"I'm glad it does for one of us."

"You don't think—"

"No." I said, stopping him from even mentioning the possibility. "She's alive. They killed Fred when he wasn't useful to them anymore. They need her alive to get to me."

"So what's the plan now?"

"They _must_ know I'm looking for them. The club was a message to get my attention. I need to send a reply but not yet." For once, I knew I couldn't run into this too fast without getting what I needed. This had to mean I was close. "I need to you to put a tail on someone."

"Name 'em." He said without hesitation.

"Someone I think may be a key connection to all this. Eliza Maza. She's a detective for the PD. I'll need it fast. I'm going to need some time alone with her. You can't send any slouches though. She's smart and she's tough."

"How far in you think she is?"

"No idea but hers was a name I got from one off the list you sent me." I pause. "And check around for someone or something named Demona."

"Consider it done and I know just the one to keep on your cop friend."  
"Alright. Let me know as soon as you can." There's another small pause as I look out at the night sky. "And Kenny…when I meet her, make sure there's plenty of daylight."

For a change, I'm too stressed to sleep. Even the stone has lost it's small lore over me since I don't want to risk going into another trance and not being able to come out of it when I need to. I kept my mind on Melissa. What had the done to her? Where would they have taken her? How did they even know she was a friend? These beasts didn't seem so mindless as the news or the Quarrymen made them out to be, at least not these two.

They were ruthless, yes but mindless? Far from it and they seemed to have unlimited resources to boot. Or at least many more than I did. Before, with Fred, it was just getting even but now it was personal. It's been a few hours since my chat with Kenny and the day seems to be working against me, daylight coming closer and closer to a fade.

I paced a hole in the floor while checking my weapons for the tenth time; still waiting for a call back from Kenny on anything he can dig up, I know this is all my fault. Melissa was one of the only friends I've got and I could never forgive myself if something happened to her but I can't dwell on it now. The phone finally rings, hopefully with good news.

"Yeah?"

"Got nothing on the Demona name but miss Maza is going to be heading to the Purple Onion restaurant on 17th and Balboa in an hour. She's supposed to be meeting her partner there but my tail's going to make sure he'll be unavailable."

"That doesn't leave a lot of time. There's only another three hours until nightfall."

"Couldn't be helped. She slept most of the damn day. I think this is her breakfast hour."

"Alright. I'm gone. Keep trying on the Demona name."

"I still might not have anything."

"Then I'm sure Maza will."

"Remo," Ken said with an air of caution in his tone. "She's a cop, man."  
"And Melissa is my fucking friend!" My patience has run out with being subtle. "I am _not_ going to let her die, Ken." I hang up before he can object further.

Having lost my Beretta at MacDuff's place, I load up the spare and twin Ingrams with extra clips beneath my coat. I'm not looking to start anything with this woman but if she pushes me, I _will_ push back.

One hour later, I'm arriving at the restaurant. It's not a particularly highbrow joint so I'm not asked any questions regarding my coat or my sunglasses. It's got a sports bar motif going on with hard wood floors and walls, booths and tables all around along with a bar in the middle. Lots of people made me uncomfortable that I may get recognized but sure Mrs. Maza would be on her best behavior.

I make a quick scan of the room and note any possible spots I may need to make a fast exit and finally spot her. She still wore that red jacket over a black shirt and blue jeans. Simplicity worked for her. I can relate. She's on a cell phone, apparently talking to her partner.

"Matt, if you didn't want to eat with me, all you had to do was say so." She said jokingly. "You didn't have to make up some lie about your car breaking down." I had to admit, she sounded pleasant when she wasn't being a bitch. Too bad I had to ruin her mood.

I snatch the phone out of her hand and hang up on whomever she's talking to. That'll sound suspicious to a good partner but I won't need that long. Hopefully.

"Hey!" Whatever insults she's ready to fling my way are cut off when she sees me. Her surprise takes a minute to give way to confusion but she hides it well. "…Remo."

"Hey to you too." A give a small smile as I site down across from her. "Hope this seat's not taken but I needed to have a little chat with you."  
"If you came to make some kind of deal for less jail time, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Good thing, then." I decide to forego the mud slinging and get straight to the point. "I figured you and Braveheart have spoken already so I don't need to fill you in on the details at the castle and just tell you what I told him. I want the red head detective."

She snorts. "And just how much do you think I know?"

"The woman that went missing from _The Powerline_ last night is a friend of mine. She's got no part in this and I'm going to do whatever it takes to see she gets brought back safely."

Maza's eyes search me for a few moments, as if she's trying to determine where I really stand despite the fact I just told her. Then her eyes narrow on me and she looks appalled.

"…You think I had something to do with it. The kidnapping." Which earns a small bit of applause from me.

"Very good. Looks like you _did_ earn that badge after all." I said with plenty of sarcasm.

"Of all the…" She shakes her head at me. "You couldn't be more wrong, Remo."

"Maybe. That is just a theory of mine. However, there is a big difference between what I think and what I know. What I know is that Scotsman tangled with the garg-woman I'm looking for. I know he tried to dissuade me from finding her, and I know, after a significant ass-kicking, he called you up and told you all about it." Her face never even cracks as I speak. She simply gives me a tilt of her head.

"You're in way over your head. You're already accused of setting the fires at your apartment and the nightclub. You're going to be charged with evading arrest and interfering with a police investigation. Give yourself up and all this can get straightened out."

I laughed. "Oh, so now you want to help me as opposed to locking me away? Or feeding me to your flying friends?"

"Remo, I told you—"

"Yeah, I heard what you told me but I just happen to think you're full of shit." A waitress comes by to take our orders. To her disappointment, we both decline anything but drinks, never taking our eyes off one another. The poor girl wants to ask but doesn't want to lose her job so she walks away, giving us worried glances.

"Don't think I'm not willing to go looking for Demona all by lonesome, detective." My use or misuse of the name gets a reaction from her. I must have gotten it right in some way or another.

"You're going to have to trust me. Let this go and know miss Imari is going to be rescued."

"Trust ­_you_? I honestly hope you're aware you're asking me not only to trust a cop but a woman I hate on a regular basis." To which she gave me a frustrated sigh.

"I don't care what you think about me but think of your friend. If she cares about you as much as you do her, you think she'll want to come back seeing that you got yourself killed on some ill-fated rescue mission? Back off Remo, you've already caused enough damage."

"Lady, I haven't even started. The warehouse, the club, Fred; all those were your friend's work."

"I told you, they are not—" Every time I referred to the blue ones as her friends, she got more and more agitated but I wasn't finished.

"When I go after them, believe me. You _will_ know." I said in a dangerous tone. She narrows her eyes at me.

"What makes you think I have any intention of just letting you walk out of here." She slowly reaches inside her jacket but a loud click from under the table stops her.

"Because you're thinking the same thing I am. That you really don't want to have a shoot-out in the middle of a public place." She doesn't move. "It's an Ingram I've got on you, detective. I'm sure you've seen plenty and had them shooting at you plenty more but I came here for answers so let's not have any undo fuss."

"You're thinking there's the smallest chance I'm bluffing and I won't fire but considering all the people around us, the elderly couple enjoying their anniversary, the kid's birthday party where little Adam is having a piece of chocolate cake, or the teenage girls having a night out with a big plate of fries." Her eyes dart around to each table I specify, training back on me with a suspicious gaze.

"I realize you don't like being threatened and I can relate, so keep your gun holstered. Not for me, but for them." I can see the anger burning in her eyes. She wants to draw on me. Wants to pistol-whip me until I'm unconscious but decides to place her hands on the table instead.

"This may mean life for you."

"Well like I said, these things have got my friend. As long as they have her, you can be sure of one thing: I going to cut a path through who ever I got to in order to get her back. Prison and the law can be damned for all I care."

Taking all of this in, she considers what I've said and tilts her head at me. "What if she's already dead?" I didn't even want to consider that possibility.

"She's not." I said strongly. "For some reason, this Demona wants me. Alive. And I'm assuming Melissa's going to stay that way as long as she needs me. Don't ask me why. Our conversation didn't exactly get that far when she was trying to tear my throat out." The wheels start to turn in her head and I can see those cop instincts start to work but there's something she's hesitating to tell me.

"…Okay, I believe you." I'm nearly caught off guard when actually sounds genuine. "But we both have obvious trust issues with one another."

I nod. "Obviously."

"So I'll be the first to show what's under my hat. Meet me at the Cloisters tonight."

"For what, a SWAT team ambush and some asshole of a cell? Fuck you."

"Alright, fine!" She said with an exasperated sigh. "Where do _you_ want to meet?"

I hold up her phone. "This thing got a number?" She nods and tells me. "I'll call you with a time and place. You're one minute late or I even feel a trap, only place you ever hear from me again is on the news."

With that, I holstered my weapon and got up to leave. I may just be setting myself up for a fall but I had to take the chance. The only other option was giving myself up to the gargoyles for Melissa and that is one option I'd like to keep in the 'last resort' pile of ideas but I'm running out of time. So is she.

One Times Square, 11:45pm

I went back to the motel to pick up a few things and prepare for this meeting, one of them being the stone. It glowed with that radiant light but I couldn't look into it. No time for one last vision as much as I wanted to see. I had to keep it hidden until I knew what was what. They gargoyles had their bargaining chip and I had mine. Only thing to do now is making a deal.

I made the call to Maza at 11:50pm and told her to meet me at the top of the One Times Square building at Midnight.

_"Alright but I'm warning you now so you don't get the wrong idea. I'm bringing a friend to make sure you get your story straight. Just don't get jumpy."_

What could that mean? Whatever, I thought since I was bringing a friend too. The one Ken sent to tail the detective was the female from the outside of the club. She said to call her Shion and she was currently posted on a random rooftop with a sniper rifle good for five hundred yards. Anything happens, I hit the deck and she starts blasting anything that moves.

The position kept everything lit up enough to be seen but put us in a blind spot for the rest of the people who might be trying to eavesdrop could barely see us. The people on the street or even in the surrounding buildings wouldn't be able to make us out too well and it was hard to get to. I'm just glad it's not New Year's Eve. Plenty of people have tried to sneak of here for some reason or another and the security was kept tight. I nearly got caught a few times making my way up here.

_"Heads up,"_ Shion said through the radio communicator in my ear, _"You've got company coming."_ I turn towards the roof access door. _"No. From the north."_

From the north? I tilted my head in confusion. Unless the good detective was planning to pull a Spider-Man on me, there was no other way she could be arriving.

_Fwoop._ I hear it before I see it. An emerald skinned creature swooped overhead in a circular pattern over the building. It's wings extended as it held a lithe female form in its arms. Slowly, it descended to the roof, landing softly on the other end, thankfully far from me. That still doesn't stop me from reaching in my coat and grasping the handles of my Mac 10s.

"Easy Remo!" Maza says as she's set down on her feet. The fat gargoyle puts up his hands in a gesture of truce. "He's not here to hurt you. His name's Broadway."

" 'I couldn't be more wrong' huh, detective?" I said, throwing her words back at her.

"Exactly. Like humans, not all gargoyles are killers."

"Everyone's a killer, gargoyle or human. Just a matter of timing is all."

"But we're not." The gargoyle said. "I know running into Demona hasn't exactly helped your perception of us but we're not like her. You've got our word we don't want to harm you."

There was something to his voice, something that actually did assure me. I wasn't one to be fooled easily but he seemed to be making an effort to convey what he said as truth. As a gesture of good faith on my part, I let go of the Ingrams and put my hands in my coat pockets, flapping it over them. Not much of gesture but its a start.

I nod to them. "Speak your peace. Just know this hasn't put me at ease, detective."

She nodded. "I realize but I figured you needed to know you had some friends in high places so to speak."

"Friends?" I scoff. "I only have one friend I know of and she's currently kidnapped. I'm not hearing anything useful as to me in getting her back."

"Well we need to know a few things for that to happen. For instance, what was really the starting point in all this?" Silence struck me. I was caught between wanting to get Melissa back and wanting to stay a free man, none of which looking to be in my bleak future. Maza sighed.

"Remo, it doesn't matter what happened or what you did. What matters is getting Melissa back safely."

I hated when people are right sometimes. Regardless, I proceeded to tell her the real story from beginning to now, telling her the bare basics of what she needed to know: the heist, the attack, the jewel, the visions, and the apparent bargain. The big one nodded at everything, scratching his chin.

"She wants me but for what, I can't say. Most days, I'd take that as a compliment but not when there's so much carnage over it." It wasn't lost on me that all the death and destruction was my fault and would continue to be until I stopped the psycho gargoyle.

"If Demona wants this gem bad enough to go to all this trouble, it can't be for anything good but why she would want you is a bigger mystery." The green one said. "She _hates_ humans."

"The feeling's mutual. Still, I've put my cards on the table…and probably just convicted myself." I said while looking at Maza. "Show me that good faith you talked about and do the same." She and the fat one both glanced at one another but she proceeded to tell me a very wild story about this red-haired devil, about her ties to the gargoyles and why this Demona hates all of humanity. I'd laugh if it didn't sound so pathetic. The story sounds like something straight out of a Disney cartoon on crack but after what I've seen, I'd be a fool not to believe.

"We should start with this black diamond." Maza said, getting back to the heart of the matter. "If we find out what it is, we may be able to find out what it's for and why she's after you."

"If you're asking me to hand it over, you can forget it."

"Remo—" Maza began to say.

"No! That stone might be my only shot at getting Mel back. I'm not giving it up just to end up in a damn evidence locker."

"Hey, Elisa wouldn't do that." The gargoyle said defensively. "Especially with your friend's life in danger."

"She's a cop. And _you're_ a gargoyle. Two things that aren't particularly high on my list of trustworthy folk right now." Broadway leaned over to her.

"I see what you mean about this guy."

"Exactly why I didn't bring Goliath. It'd be just _asking_ for a fight." They spoke low but I could hear them. Gives me cause to wonder just how many the detective has for friends.

"We want the same thing, Remo." She said. "To get Melissa back safely." I tense but consider their words. It's not like I had a lot of options or time and yet I still hesitate.

"…Ever since that stupid heist, I've been shot at, slashed, bludgeoned, and beaten more in the last few days than in the last two years. Now I have to put my trust in a cop, whom of which I've been taught all my life to despise, and a gargoyle after I've nearly been killed twice by two of them." There was a deep sigh as I thought of the nice cell I'd be put if I were lucky.

_"Remo, incoming!"_ Shion yelled over the comm. Not a second later, the roof was littered with red beams of blaster fire. Several shots from another rooftop sent all three of us diving for cover. The gargoyle instinctively used himself to shield Maza from the onslaught of laser fire.

"Shion, how many?" I yelled over the comm link.

"At least three. They got a sniper set up five building's away and he's got me pinned." I hear a grunt and rip of cloth over the line.

"You okay?"

"_Arm wound. Nothing serious but until I can get a clean shot, you're on your own_."

Just freaking wonderful, I think to myself. The blaster fire was coming from all sides of us but where? Soon, sounds resembling jet engines filled the air but weren't nearly as loud. Rising above the illuminated signs, two people clad in body armor and red visor helmets appeared above us on what looked to be hover-bikes. One of these days, I'll have to talk to Ken about upgrading my stuff.

In a perfect X maneuver, the one just above Maza and Broadway descended on me while the other above my head swooped towards them. Both Maza and Broadway roll away as beams of red energy turned their previous position into a batch of smoldering craters. The second fired beams of blue but once I back flip out of their path, they only disperse into arcs of electricity on impact with the concrete instead of leaving melting holes. Maza and friend were getting the more lethal treatment while I was getting a glorified taser. They must be working for Demona.

Lucky thing for us, the roof is wide enough to maneuver because above our heads, Shion was having a shoot out of her own with the rival sniper. Taking aim, I fire the Mac 10s on my dance partner while I see Broadway leaping for his with a roar out of my peripheral. His glass visor deflects the hail of bullets but shower his field of view in sparks. Going into a run, I leap over another pair of blue bolts just as the distraction ends and he gets his bearings back. Suddenly, I'm on the hood or whatever it was of her hover bike and trying to crawl towards the rider.

Unfortunately, I realize I don't quite think my strategy through when he gets airborne. The rooftop disappears from under me and is replaced by the very long drop to the New York streets.

"Whoa!" The pilot begins to swerve and jerk the bike, trying to knock me off like a bucking bronco but I manage to hold on only after having to drop my guns. I keep crawling towards her on the hood while trying to hang on for dear life.

I make it far enough to get both hands on the top of the glass shield and as he bucks the bike upwards hard enough to send me flying to the concrete below, I managed to hold on and use the momentum to flip over him and land on the small passenger seat at the rear.

I try to grab the pilot and get him into a full nelson before throwing him off but I get an elbow in the face for my trouble. "Don't think so, wimp!" A female voice said, not very feminine but she was a woman. A blonde in fact, as I pull off her helmet and hit her on the temple with it.

"Who you calling wimp?" Again, I try to wrap my arms around her waste and throw her off but she tilts her head back and straight into my jaw, busting my lip open.

Down below, I can see Broadway still trying to tear his rival's bike to pieces as he used the same maneuvers to shake him off. Maza managed to fire and hit him twice in the chest but the guy was barely fazed. That's some damn good body armor.

I bring my elbow down on the nape of her neck, causing the blonde to scream out. "That's it! To hell with Demona's orders!" She yelled, reaching for a large bowie knife on her thigh.

Flipping a switch on the controls, she nearly knocks me off again with a back kick to the chest. She turns to face me while the bike begins to pilot itself away from Times Square.

The knife comes out and slashes me across the chest, having no room to dodge. The look in her eyes was that of a hardened soldier, or mercenary in this case. It figures that I would have to fight a Valkyrie on her flying steed in this day and age. She switches to an underhand hold on the blade and stabs at me but the blow is caught at the wrist. She swings a left hook; I duck under but get hit by a returning backhand.

Her flat palm strikes out for my nose, looking to kill me with one blow but I knock it away. Keeping a firm hold on her outstretched knife hand, I hit her in the exposed joint where the arm meets the shoulder. When she recoils, my other hand shoots to grip her elbow and in a flash, I twist her arm. Another small scream before I smash my forearm into her unprotected head, forcing her to drop the knife.

I sure as hell hope that doesn't land on anyone. We must have made an amazing sight, the two of us a few hundred feet off the ground, fighting like a couple of wild dogs on a piece of steel that was only twice the size of my Ducati.

Narrowly dodging another set of fierce blows, I can see we're getting father and farther away from the building roof where this struggle began. We were already a few blocks away but our small battle on the floating machine was taking its toll on our altitude. The more we struggled, the lower we got until we were zipping by buildings close enough to scrape body parts on the masonry.

Luckily the jutting pieces of the machine were scrapped and scratched instead. The impact nearly sent us both to street level several times. She kicks me hard in the face before bringing her hands together to clap around my skull, leaving my vision further blurred and my ears ringing. A right hook ends the combo and has me dangling off the seat. She takes a hold of my belt and shoves me off.

My dumb luck continues to hold when it's that exact moment we slam into a building side. Flipping forward, I keep a grip on the bike's side while running across the passing brick.

"Son of a bitch!" As the wall runs out I kick off, swinging around and into miss Valkyrie feet first. She goes flying off just as the bike swerves hard, leaving her nothing to hold on to. For thirty feet, she fell until she landed on the empty birdhouse of a close roof. A pity I won't see her splattered across the pavement but a win is a win in this case or at least a momentary one.

The bike is still set on autopilot and increasing in speed with the extra weight taken off. I press random controls but nothing happens aside from figuring out where the net launcher, flamethrower, and laser blasters were. Everything I tried made the situation worse so I did what I always do in these situations. Standing as much as I can, I lift up a boot and stomp on the control panel as hard as I can.

Buttons and sparks fly everywhere but by some form of a miracle, a female computerized voice tells me the autopilot is disengaged. However, it also tells me navigation systems are badly damaged. Smooth. It doesn't matter since I've stopped. Now all I have to do is get this thing back to Times Square. I tap on the communicator still in my ear.

"Shion?" I get nothing but static. "Shion, do you read?" Still nothing. I have to hope I'm just too far out of range to get her signal.

I stare awkwardly at the controls as they spark and flicker lights of a machine struggling to stay online. Hopefully this thing can stay on long enough to get me back to the building roof but I doubt it. First step is how to fly it.

Half an hour later, I finally make it back but Maza and the gargoyle are nowhere to be seen but there are plenty of signs of battle. Smoking craters turned the area into Swiss cheese but it seems Broadway gave as good as he got, leaving a few pieces of the bike behind.

Their problems aside, there was one person I was worried about now and, lucky me, the hover bike broke down just a foot away from her position, sputtering like a broken car engine before if gave out and fell. Hopping off, I can see she's lying face down.

"Shion!" I run to her and check her pulse; still steady and strong. I feel around for any broken bones. Nothing. She's got a few bullet holes in her but, aside from the one in her left arm (which she patched up herself no less), none of them pierced her vest. Cradling her head, I shake her gently.

"Come on, girl. Wake up. It's not a good time to be sleeping on the job." She begins to stir and mutter something unintelligible. "What?" I lower my head to her.

"...Tr…t…trap…"

"I know but I don't think it was Maza." She shook her head as she tried to move.

"…No…now…" It takes me a moment to figure her out but a moment too late. Small spikes fly out of thin air and plunge into my neck. The sting precedes the many volts of electricity that shoot through my body. So much that I can barely cry out. My limbs do it for me as they convulse and spasm, sending me into one giant seizure. I've been tasered before but this put all those cop models to shame.

It only lasted a minute or so but pain has a way of making the seconds stretch out. Now, I'm on my face, gritting my teeth as I fought against the darkness just long enough to see what hit me. The surroundings just to the sides of the damaged hover bike moved all on their own. Like something out of the Predator movies, you can see it but can't see it at the same time.

"Bastard was a tougher catch than we thought." A gruff voice said as the light around them was bent and manipulated back to normal and two male figures could clearly be seen. Both were wearing the same battle suits and helmets as the Valkyrie I tossed. "Then again, they always are when gargoyles are involved." He said bitterly.

"How's Runolf?" The other man asked. "Still alive I hope?"

"She's got a few bumps and bruises, and mad as a hornet at this one, but otherwise, she'll live." There's the faint sound of mechanics; the _wurrr click _of tiny gears and mechanisms over the sound of their boots as they came closer.

"Signal her to meet us back at the rendezvous point." Metal clenches against my throat as the apparent leader picks me up with one arm, lifting me off the ground and my feet easily. Holding me in the air by my throat as if I weighed nothing at all. "We got what we came for."

Instinct works against me as I grasp at the hand and send a knee in quick succession to the back of his head, and again to the front, breaking his nose. However, his grip only tightens like a vice.

"You sonuva…! Lucky you're worth nothing dead you little prick!" Another few hundred volts shoot through me. It's too bad I didn't have the foresight to pull out the taser needles _before_ I hit him. They connected directly to the wrist of a robotic hand.

I went into another fit of convulsions in his grip before he ended it and threw me to the floor. That's it. That's all I've got left. Seems every time I fight the dark, it just makes things worse.

Trapped. In my own head. I don't even feel safe in my own skin anymore. Unconsciousness brings me back and forth from the nightmare in my head to the one outside of it. I can hear the echo of voices, faint and distance, yet somehow I knew they were close. I don't recognize a one of them but there do seem to be quite a few.

There were the mercs that captured me. A man and woman, warriors both. I can relate. Am I captured? Am I free? Am I being rescued or bartered for? I struggle to sit up and clear my head but something is holding me down. Restraints keeping me tied down. Not free and definitely not safe.

Another voice, German for sure but aged. There's some gibberish he speaks that I can't recognize. Has to be a scientist. Someone else was there, someone familiar. Sounded female, confident, dangerous, Demona. My eyes almost shoot open completely as she yells about the stone.

_No Remo. Don't give yourself away_

I want to struggle against my bonds, to break free and go for her throat. She was so close I could smell her perfume. She's so close.

_You will do nothing except insure your death. You cannot break your bonds. You can't even stand, let alone fight_

He was right. My limbs felt like lead weights. Weather it was the effects of the taser or something else being pumped into my system, I couldn't tell but I was too weak.

_Rest now. Sleep, and when you wake, we'll kill them all_

It disturbed me how soothing that was, to be sang to sleep by a lullaby of death and mayhem but I obeyed, drifting back to sleep. Content in the knowledge that one way or another, I was going to get even.

When I finally came to, I moved a hand to search for my guns but they were gone, of course, as was my phone. Not that any of those items would do me any good. Whatever they had me on must have been pretty strong. I can barely sit up, still feeling the after effects.

The world starts to come into focus again and there's not much to see. I was sitting on the floor of a cell. One door barred my way out but there were no holes or bars to even see through. The walls were gun metal grey. I could appreciate that. The same went for the ceiling and roof. It was a cell, at least five by nine, more roomy than a prison issue at least. No cot and no toilet meant they didn't plan on keeping me long.

I work harder to clear the proverbial fog from my head when I hear footsteps approach. Leaning against the wall, I use it to prop myself up. Who or whatever came through that door, I was going to meet them on my feet. Along with the footsteps, I could hear a female voice letting loose with profanities that might make a sailor blush.

Two men discreetly dressed in suits that bore no symbol or insignia of whom they worked, for came in, dragging between them a half naked and frightened Melissa. She struggled with them until they had to come close to carrying her in, one of them showing a nasty scratch across his left eye and the other with a black eye bruise under his right.

"…Remo?" She stopped fighting as soon as she saw me, coming over to help me stand.

"Melissa. Are you okay?"

"Are _you_? You look like shit." She was dressed in nothing but a black lace braw with matching panties. The struggle with the guards tore one of the straps on her braw.

"Gee, thanks. Excuse me for not looking my best after taking fifty-thousand volts to the neck." Some body parts still quivered from the shock with ebbing pains of electricity.

"You shouldn't have come." She did her best to lay me down gently, still backed against the wall. "If this is a rescue, you're doing a lousy job."

"Give me a break. I've never dealt with gargoyles, alright. Nor likely to again."

"If we live through this." She added bleakly.

"Oh?" I tilt my head at her. "Was that supposed to be part of the plan? Shit. I knew I forgot something." Said with a shrug

"I'm serious, you dick."

"Relax. I've still got something they want." She eased herself down beside me.

"Relax? I'm probably never sleeping again." She shivered and leaned against me, making it hard to concentrate on what I might say next. Even with all that's happened and this mysterious narcotic worming it's way through my veins, the feel of her warm body against me is intoxicating.

"…Well…sleep is…for the weak anyway." I push the thoughts away from my mind. Now was the worst time to be thinking about sex. She looks at me and chuckles.

"Isn't this the part where you say 'there's always other things to do besides sleep' or something like that?" Said as she edged closer, pressing herself as close to me as she could. The scent of her hair invaded my nostrils. That sweet smell of flowers she always seemed to have.

"I thought it…might be too predictable." I shake my head but the feeling won't let go. Usually, I can ignore my base desires, deflecting it with humor, but it were like something primal pulling at me and I wasn't alone.

"God…Remo, I'm so…so…I don't know…I don't know what I'm feeling right now." Her beautiful bosom heaved up ad down as she took deep breaths. We both began to breath deeper, faster. "Wh-what's…happening to us…?"

Before I can answer, she snatches the shades off my face and practically pulls me on top of her, forcing her lips against mine in a crushing kiss. Her tongue lashes out to find mine and I can't find the will to resist, allowing the intrusion as my hands pull us closer together.

The two of us growl like beasts against one another. I beak the kiss to pull her hair roughly, forcing her head back as I kiss and bite my way down her chin to her neck, practically mauling the fair flesh but she simply laughs. Her hands do the same but instead of forcing me back, she pulls me in deeper, almost abusively wanting me. The flesh of her neck becomes red with welts where I nearly draw blood.

We literally start to tear at each other's clothes, her braw falling to tattered pieces on the floor. My coat and shirt are discarded easily. She doesn't even see the scars as she returned the favor; leaving deep kisses down my neck and bites so hard, I nearly bled.

Grabbing her hands, I force her on her back with her arms trapped over her head as I descended down on her delectable breasts, eliciting loud moans of pleasure with each touch but as I begin to move lower, her pleas for more seem wrong.

"Oh god! Yes! Yes yes yes!" I blink a few times and fight the animal urge to have her then and there. It takes every ounce of will power I have to pull myself away from her; even more so when she whimpers in protest and tries to hold onto me. I quickly back away into a corner, leaving both of us breathing as though we just ran a marathon and she, on the verge of tears from being denied.

A few minutes passed before either one of us could get ourselves under control. "What…was that?" I'm surprised when she's the first to break the silence.

"…I don't know." My hands are shaky when they pick up my glasses. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too. I just…I couldn't help myself."

"I think,' Said as I put my shirt back on, "They injected us with something. Here." I handed her my coat, having a hard time looking her in the eye although her eyes weren't what might send me into another sexual frenzy. I could still feel it, the need take her. The tent in my pants didn't disguise much either. She was struggling with it too even as she moved to the opposite end of the room, shivering as she slipped the dark trench coat on.

"Why? Why would they want us to…?" Her face lit up with a startling realization. "Are…are they watching us?"

I shrug. "Most likely." Her expression quickly changed from startled surprise to deep embarrassment.

"Oh my god." She bit her bottom lip and seemed to writhe on the floor a moment, something that looked undeniably sexy at the moment. "Remo, I don't think I can take it. Why? Why would they do this to us?"

"Sick laughs maybe. I wouldn't put it past them." Whatever was working through our system, I bodies were responding even though our minds resisted. I had to do something besides sit there and ride it out. Drugs or not, I wasn't going to be a good little captive. Only two things could settle this down and there wasn't any place in here I could get a cold shower so I began to kick the door. Boots against metal made an annoying metal _clang!_ Good. The noise would be irritating and keep us off one another.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed with no watch and no windows but it felt like I'd been kicking that damn door for at least an hour, talking to her between each kick.

"So, _Clang!_ How'd they _Clang!_ Get you?"

"The Powerline. _Clang!_ They knew where _Clang!_ To find you."

"_Clang!_ I'm sorry. I had no intention _Clang!_ Of getting you involved _Clang!_ With any of this."

"You know _Clang!_ This is all _Clang!_ Your fault."

"Like I need you _Clang!_ To tell me that."

"Well _Clang!_ You never seem _Clang!_ To listen." I stop kicking the door to take a small breather, having built up a fair amount of sweat from the impromptu work out.

"You know, I've been shot at, beaten up, stabbed, slashed, and chased after for the last few days so I'd appreciate a little sympathy right now. I came to rescue you, remember?"

She takes an obvious look around the room then back at me. "Good job."

"…Okay, I walked right into that one." I admit with a roll of my eyes. Her eyes linger a little too long and I wonder if she's going to just up lunge at me. "'Lissa? You okay?"

"Yeah. I think the whatever-it-was is wearing off. The need to touch myself every few seconds is gone."

"Nice as that would've sounded, that's good. I think I'm okay too." So what happens next, I thought to myself.

"…Remo…thanks. For not taking advantage… of the situation when you could have."

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. I'm not quite the rapist you think I am. Thank _you_ for not doing the same. A man only has so much will power." I was about to go back to kicking the door when I hear more footsteps approach.

I take a step back when Demona herself walks through. The joking exterior Melissa was speaking to a moment ago was gone in that instant.

"Yours are the eyes of a killer." She said. "I can see that even through those dark frames. I can also see you wish to see me dead." Her wings were folded around her in a cape.

"In the worst way."

"Better than you have tried and failed, human." There's a tense pause between us. "Where is the diamond?" She said, cutting straight to the point.

"Diamond?" I said, moving between she and Melissa. "What diamond?"

"You play games at the expense of miss Imari's life." To her credit, Melissa stood her ground and showed no fear.

"Don't tell this blue bitch anything, Remo!" Demona's eyes flashed red before she took a step towards Melissa.

"Go ahead! Just one is all it takes." She stopped to look at me. "One bruise on her, one scratch is all it takes for me to forget."

Demona's eyes narrow as a small smile appears on her face. "You think I would simply kill her here and now? That would be merciful. I had planned to serve her to my guards as entertainment. They will rape her, beat her, and make sure her last moments in her miserable existence are in total agony." Melissa's tough exterior faltered at this and I couldn't blame her but I didn't back down.  
Save your threats. I was going to give you the stone anyway. You knew that, from the moment to took her. But under one condition: she goes free. You will _never_ find that stone and since you seem to need me, well…there's plenty of ways a person can do themselves in."

"No!" Melissa said, despite herself.

"You wouldn't. Not to yourself. Especially when she will suffer in you place." Demona spat back.

"No, I wouldn't. Not if I could help it and I can. I want her to live and you want that stone. The deal is on the table and non-fucking-negotiable. She goes free or you get nothing! I promise you that."

A silence so thick you could cut it with a knife descends on us for what felt like an eternity. For a moment, I'm sure I've lost, that Demona might carry out her threats just to torture the stone's location out of me but the blue demon relented.

"Name your terms, human."

"I assume you still have my phone." She gave orders to have it brought to me. The date and time say I've been out for at least twenty-four hours. I turn to Melissa and hold her close to whisper instructions in her ear. "Head to the 23rd precinct. Ask for detective Maza. Talk to her and only her. Tell her everything that's happened. Can you remember all that?" She nods.

"Alright." I said, turning back to Demona. "It's 11:18 which means you've got one hour to set her free. She'll call me from a safe spot and let me know she's okay. If the clock hits 12:19 and she hasn't called, you spend the rest of forever looking over every square inch of New York. Do we understand each other?" She replied with a small nod.

"I warn you. Any deception or tricks and I'll have my son use her body as a play toy."

"Of that, I have no doubt." Recalling her son from the warehouse and holding back a shudder. "11:19 already. You're wasting time."

She left, expecting Melissa to follow but she paused with a lingering glance. It was strange but I felt like I was really seeing her concern for the first time. Maybe it was because I finally understood her feelings now that it was her life in real danger for a change.

"It's okay. Get out of here. I'll be by for my coat later." Said with a confident grin that didn't seem to assure either on of us but she left, if a little hesitant and the countdown was on.

I didn't even need to see a clock since I was so on edge; I just counted the seconds off in my head and marked each passing minute. The clock in my head struck 12:15 and I was wearing the floor out with constant pacing when the phone finally rang.

"Yeah?"

"I'm here."

"Are you alright? Where'd they take you?"

"I'm fine but I was blindfolded. They dropped me off some blocks from the station."

"Did you find Maza?"

"No. Just her partner but he says she's on her way."

"Stay there. No matter what, you stay there with plenty of bodies and guns between you and anyone you think might be coming for you."

"Remo…" She paused. I know she wanted to ask what I was going to do. If there was anything I could do at all but she may not like the answer I give and I may not have one to give her. "…Just be careful okay?"

"Come on Mel, you know me."

"That's what I mean, you brave asshole." She gets a smile out of me. I sigh deeply as I hang up and wait for what's coming next. I don't have to wait long as Demona walks in, an expectant look on her face. There's not a doubt in my mind that she would slaughter every cop in that precinct to get to Mel if I don't deliver so I tell her the diamond's location. It was hidden under a manhole cover on 52nd street. She dispatched men to retrieve it immediately.

"So, now what?" I ask as she stays behind.

"Now," She said with a smug smile as she moved closer. "I claim my second prize." It happened to fast to react. She reared back and punched me hard enough across the jaw to spin me on my heels. Damn near knocked my head off. I fall back against the wall and collapse to the floor in a heap of dead weight. The last thing I hear before everything goes dark is an arrogant chuckle as she stands over me.

Slowly, I begin to stir with the familiar taste of liquid copper in my mouth. How much time has passed now? Minutes, hours, days? It all seems so meaningless in this place, whatever or wherever it might be. There is an odd sensation of softness beneath me. The unyielding sandpaper of concrete was gone. Instead, replaced by satin sheets and a mattress so comfortable, I could sleep for a week. However, the pain in my jaw wouldn't allow it.

The breeze blowing across my bare skin conveys I've been stripped. My clouded vision refuses to clear and my limbs are weighted down once more. I feel worse than when I first woke up in the cell. Whatever they injected me with before, they used a stronger dose this time. It's a struggle just to turn over on my back.

The room is dark, with only small shades of light to give me any sense of where I am. No windows and one door as last time but the floor is covered in soft, black carpet. It's larger than the cell but seemed just as bare. The small shades of light were coming from a dimmed fixture in the center of the ceiling.

Why doesn't she just kill me and get it over with? Perhaps she wants to torture me somehow for getting in her way. Maybe this is some kind of bizarre experiment. Either way, whatever she had planned was likely going to be painful. That's cool. Pain and I are close friends.

Propping myself up on my elbows as best I can, I try to see if there's any other way out. The vents here are too small to climb through but are pumping out heat. It's not until I look towards the door that I see a figure standing in front of it.

It's female for sure, with long dark hair and a Coke-bottle frame. She sauntered forward and crawled onto the bed towards me, her light brown hair falling over her sapphire eyes. Like me, she wore nothing but her birthday suit.

No introduction or small talk as she began to plant small kisses on me. Starting at my ankles, she kissed and nipped her way up my legs, past my waist, and up my chest. I grip her arms and try meekly to stop her.

"Who…who are you?" Her only reply was a small smile and a lusty eye as she overpowered me and continued. I couldn't even fight off a kitten at this point. She runs her hands through my hair, tugging on my bottom lip with her teeth. Painful torture and death were expected and this was most definitely not. Still, there had to be some reason behind it and I wouldn't give the garg-woman the satisfaction. However, my resistance was takes a nosedive when she flicks her tongue over my ear, forcing a moan from my lips.

This girl knows what she's doing. I just wish I knew the same. Straddling my waist, she begins to slowly grind herself against my hardening manhood. The heat between her legs slid up and down my shaft, leaving it glistening. My heart was racing as I tried to center my thoughts on something, anything other than what was happening now but not matter what I tried, the mystery woman brought me back to reality.

I couldn't fight off a kitten in this state. She easily pushed passed my objecting hands and pressed her lips to mine. Soft fingers run through my hair as she presses her body against me. I knew I'd probably be tortured before I was killed. Hell, I was expecting it but not this.

Whatever her reasons behind it, I had to resist but that was proving easier said than done as she flicked her tongue over my ear. Doesn't matter what thoughts run through my head, I can't stop myself from becoming erect.

She plays me like a concert pianist plays her instrument, moving over every erogenous zone precision and gets the exact reaction she wants each time. Every moan, every shiver, is one she coaxes from me with an expert touch. Her supple breasts are dangled just above me, expecting me to participate and for a fleeting moment, I actually feel bad for not returning her generous favors.

_You really are a weak little bastard_

I'm snapped out of my lustful trance.

_A pretty set of tits are all it takes to make you as docile as a neutered pup_ The voice scoffs. _I'm overworking myself_

There's a loud throaty moan from the both of us as she lowers herself onto me. The smooth warmth of her engulfs the length of me in a single thrust and my resistance is waning. Why is Demona doing this?

She wants me dead enough as is, disgusted that she needs a human to further her on ends. Whatever the reason, if I give in, I can kiss my ass goodbye as soon as she's done with me. My mind races with the very same questions even as this unknown woman reached her first climax, tilting her head back and screaming to the high heavens. She tightens around me like a velvet vice and it takes every ounce of will power I have to hold back my release.

_Weak weak weak, Remo, you were always weak_

I've had more bad drugs in my system on a good night and still had strength enough to take on a bar full of soccer hooligans after stepping up and calling it a pussy sport.

Her breathing comes out in ragged gasps, signaling the onset of another orgasm but I can't take any more from her. With a growl of frustration, both from being used and not allowing myself to finish, I finally manage to push her off me and nearly off the bed.

A thin sheen of sweat covered us both. She makes a sound that's a mix between a whimper and a growl at being denied. Counting on the drugs to keep my head swimming, she quickly tries to mount me again but I grab her by the throat, taking us both off the bed and pinning her against the wall

"Oh…! Bastard!" She says while trying to fight me but I reach over and grab the nice satin sheets and tie her up with them, all the while trying to ignore the feel of her curvaceous body as she writhed against me. Her hands were bound tightly and she was left to slump against the wall.

"Is that…is that all you got?" I said to the bare walls. "Huh? Is that all you got? Dope me up and send some bunny ranch chick to do the job? What the hell do you want with me? You want to see me get off for some private porn tape or something?"

Just then, the door opens and several guards come piling in. The first one swings a baton at me but I block it, just barely. The drugs still have my head swimming and my limbs weak but I send a punch to his windpipe, knocking him back. The others surround me.

I fall to the floor when one knocks my legs from under me. I've got little to no fight left as they kick and strike repeatedly until I'm a bloody mess. Once they confirm I can't get back up, I'm treated to the familiar sound of Demona's voice.

"_I need him alive you fools! Bring him to Sevarius' lab!_" She said over their radios just before things go dark for the third time tonight.

One thing I can say about being beaten so often in the last few days, the pain has been enough to keep the nightmares at bay but it was a small consolation. I was living it.

When I wake, the soreness in my wrists go unnoticed, supplemented by the smells of solvents and ammonia. Strong cleaning fluids used to wash away pesky stains from walls and floors, like blood for instance.

I'm standing but can't feel anything beneath my feet. I shake my head quickly. Restraints against my arms are holding me in the air just a foot or so off the ground. Another few hours must have passed since deep purple and red bruises from the earlier beating are now fully formed and throbbing. My entire body feels like it's been through a trash compactor.

I look around as much as I can and see the room is a laboratory/ operating room of sorts with scalpels, bone saws, and other toys. It looks like she was finally getting down to the real torture and it was about time. I hate mind games. Behind me, a lone stair way was the only entrance. Likely with more armed guards waiting at the top.

Computer screens and odd contraptions made up the furniture of this odd little shop of horrors. I pull against the restraints but they don't give. My head is still swimming but not as much as before. The feeling of weights on my limbs has diminished but not disappeared so either I was building up a resistance to this steroid-laced Spanish fly or they didn't dose me again.

Either way, I was eager to get this over with. Another few minutes pass before I hear footsteps approach. There's a combination of barefoot padding with the click of high-heels. Gargoyle feet.

"You are quite the thorn in one's side, Mr. Xenhon." She says as she comes in. "Even in captivity, you are a nuisance to resist."

"Yeah well, I was never much for cooperation. Especially while in chains."

"There's no reason to. I've delivered my end of the bargain."

"And I delivered mine. You got the stone. Speaking of which, why do you need me so bad anyway? If this is how you show a guy a good time, your hospitality needs work."

"You think I want you here?" She scoffed. "I would have killed you as soon as the jewel was in my hands—"

"Then why am I here?!" I said in frustration. She walked in front of me and stood close. Even suspended in the air, we met eye to eye.

"Your seed." Said simply, as if that explained everything.

"…Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Remo. It's your seed that I want." The only reaction I can muster is a blank stare just before I burst into a fit of laughter. She recoils in surprise as tears stream down my face. Demona finally silences me by digging into the large bruises with her talons. Even then, I can only manage a weak 'ow' through the tearful howling.

"Oh is _that_ all? I thought it was something serious!" She growls but I just can't help myself. Still, I get myself under control before she decides to cut my throat. "Well hells bells lady, all you got to do is get on your knees and go to work."

"I've known your type before." She said, unperturbed by my response. "I've watched you, first with your precious Melissa and then with one of my workers."

"I s'pose I should thank you for not picking up some crack whore off the street at least."

"Men like you," She continued, "Are enigmas in your own right. Some can be the pillars of control in life, while in the bedroom, they seek to be dominated." I began to roll my eyes but she moves her hands over the curve of her breasts. "Some are weak in their day-to-day lives. They take orders and insults from others but once they have someone under them, sweaty and naked, they become the master and unleash hell on their slave." She rubbed circles around her nipples until they hardened.

"What are you doing?"

"Paradoxes all. Where someone, anyone, everyone becomes aroused at sexual pleasure and eventually succumb, you resist. You turn it into something foul and almost painful." He hands moved over her body like that of a lover, smoothing over her hips and thighs. In one fluid motion, her hands slid off her top while her tail undid the belt of her loincloth.

"…No, you wouldn't." Shaking my head as I realize how far she's willing to go. Yet I fail to sound convincing even to myself. "You hate humans too much. You wouldn't." My arrogance fades away the moment she presses herself against me with a chuckle.

"You think you would mean so much to me? How foolish. Sex is an act of love for some and a tool to others." Her fingers run briefly over my scars. "You are no stranger to battle, nor to pain. A pity you were not born a gargoyle but because of that, I believe pain has become more arousing to you than pleasure. Or at least a steady mix of the two."

"Oh yeah. The taste of my own blood just gets me right off." I said in a deadpan tone. I try to remain defiant even as she proves me wrong. She plants kisses across my shoulder and up to my neck, flicking her tongue against the flesh before piercing it with her fangs. A harsh gasp escapes my lips just before two crimson lines tail down to my chest.

"Mmm, you see?" She clasped a hand over my stiffening length. "For you, pain and pleasure walk hand and hand. I _will_ get what I want, human. One way or another."

"Fu…fuck you."

"As you wish."

"Get off!"

"I'm trying." She laughs before raking her claws over my back while stroking my stiff length eliciting a moan mixed with pain. The cuts are shallow but painful all the same and yet, my body responds by hardening in her grip. Kneeling in front of me, Demona slides her tongue over my length and strokes it slowly.

"You want it don't you? Despite all your hatred for me, you wish to see what this mouth could do to you. I could easily get what I wanted from you this way, human." Her warm breath hovers over the head for a moment before slipping on a condom. "But, after all the trouble you've caused, what fun would that be?"

I let out a deep breath I wasn't aware I was holding as she reaches over my hands and grasps the chains holding me up, pulling herself to straddle me in midair. My eyes nearly roll back into my head as she rubs her wet folds against me.

As she gets closer, I tilt my head back as far as I can and slam into the bridge of her nose. Then I see it, the red glow. I believe I've made her angry enough to tear me to shreds but instead of a growl, she laughs. The look on her face is like a ravenous beast descending on its prey. She presses her lips against mine in a crushing kiss. It's a kiss completely devoid of kindness or even passion just before biting straight through my bottom lip.

Her fangs are so sharp I can barely feel it, at least not at first. She laps the blood, sending stinging sensations all through the wound. With a cry of triumph, she rams herself down on my length, sharply. My mind and body are so far apart, I don't know if I should be begging her to stop or begging for more.

"Do you want more, Xenhon? More pleasure? More pain? Do you even know?" She began to thrust hard and fast, not waiting for an answer. I turn away and bite into my own arm to keep my release at bay, closing my eyes and struggling to think of something else but it doesn't help. So I open them, trying to ignore her ample breasts bouncing in front of me and concentrate on the smug, domineering grin.

"I'll…ohh… fucking kill you!" She responds by raking her claws across my chest this time, forcing another moan from me. My self-control takes a nosedive in that moment. The release that she and even I wanted finally came in a violent flood within her. I yelled until my voice nearly gave out but she still thrust against me, milking me for all I had. I found myself shuddering in her arms as the orgasm finally subsided. I would collapse against her if not for the chains, even with her shrill laughter in my ear.

"…Kill you…fucking…kill you…" I said between breaths when the random shuddering would allow, only making her laugh harder.

"You would still fight me, even after I so generously allowed you your release?" Every word dripped with sarcasm, topped off with a dominant sneer. With a single swipe, she cuts the chains that held me, causing us both to fall to the floor in a heap even as she still held me within her.

"You got what you wanted." I tried to turn over to push her away with little luck. "Now get the fuck off me!"

"What I need, yes." She clamps a hand around my throat. "But what I want? Not yet." This time, her claws scrape over the most painful of the bruises inflicted by the guards, forcing full on screams or as much as I could manage with her choking me. I pull at her arm in a feeble attempt to get loose but she's too strong. Soon, I grow hard within her once more.

Part of me feels relieved. Relieved that I could spare Melissa the pain of hearing me scream. Relieved that, for god knows how long, she wouldn't hear my strangled cries. Relieved that she didn't hear me begging for it to stop, followed soon by sobs and tears. As for the other part of me, it wished Demona would actually gut me once this was finished. With a satisfied grin, she released me once she was done, her lust only partially satiated but her will to humiliate me, now thoroughly entertained.

"Poor little human. Pity. You would have made a good gargoyle and now you will simply be another slave." Demona clothed herself, leaving me on the floor in a fetal position, cowering away from her. My eyes were red and stung from all the tears. Numerous places on my chest and back were dripping blood. I cower and whimper as she calls for the guards, now frightened at the mere raise of her voice.

"Take his clothes to the incinerator. Have his weapons checked and placed in the armory." She kneeled next to me and slid a hand through my hair before gripping it harshly. "And take this one to Sevarius. He'll be pleased to have another test subject." The guards nod and do as they are told. Taking me by the arms, the have to practically drag me away with seemingly no fight left. "Have Jericho meet me in my chambers and tell him we have everything we need."

Soon, the two men are leading me down a corridor, past a few security cameras. It's a long hallway and the smells of ammonia become more intense the further we go. We're headed to another laboratory.

What are strange are the guard's faces, almost as blank as mine. They said nothing as they dragged me away. There were no jokes made or comments. No wisecracks or even mild conversation. Nothing useful so it was time to end this charade. Planting my feet and standing on my own, I still get no reaction. I slam my palms into their crotches and squeeze, wresting a duet of screams. Keeping a firm grip, I lift them off their feet only to send them back to the floor with twin elbows to the gut.

One tries to ignore the pain enough to call for help in his radio but he's silenced with a kick to the face. The other gets to his feet and makes a grab for his baton. I shove him against the wall and drop a hard elbow across the arm. It breaks at the forearm, dropping the baton as it goes limp. I press an arm against his throat to muffle his screams.

"I only got a few questions so do yourself a favor and make this easy for both of us. Where are the following locations: the incinerator, the armory, and Demona's chambers? You don't have to answer in order or the form of a question but," I apply pressure to the break in his now limp arm, making him grit his teeth, "I do suggest you answer quickly."

It wasn't easy to steer clear of the cameras and the other guards but I manage to stash the unconscious bodies in a janitor closet. Borrowing a uniform, I follow the given instructions to the letter. He wasn't lying. He didn't seem to have the brainpower for it. Something was off here. None of the other staff around this building gave me so much as a second glance. Like the previous men, everyone seemed to have a blank stare when they worked, a stiffness when they moved, like machines or zombies.

Whatever the case was, I got to the incinerator before my clothes were burned and got to the armory just as the other staff were finishing up. I got a second glance from one woman but she said nothing. Hopefully she wasn't going for a silent alarm. When no other guards came, I managed to con my way past the door, saying I forgot my security code. There was another glance before he let me through.

Once I went through, I could see vague shapes on the shelves. Hitting a light switch, my eyes go wide with all the weapons shelf to shelf. Each one is filled everything ranging from traditional firearms (pistols, shotguns, grenade launchers, sniper, and assault rifles) to new technology (laser pistols, missile launchers, and plasma blasters). Not to mention a host of hand-to-hand armaments and high-grade explosives. There was a wave of calm that washed over me with the scent of ammonia being replaced by that of gun oil.

As much as I would love to sit and go over every piece, there was work to be done so I grabbed what I could carry. What I could hook on was going to be noticeable even to the zombified employees and someone was bound to hit an alarm if they saw me walking down the hallway as strapped as I was. Looking around the room for a bag or something I could use, I spot a black leather coat hanging off one of the racks.

"My dumb luck never fails." All this hardware would put up a decent offense but with the odds so obviously not in my favor, I need that could put up a good defense. Taking the coat off the shelf, I see something under it and smile, tilting my head to look at the ceiling. "I think someone up there likes me."

Finding Demona would be a little more difficult. The guard didn't know where her private chamber was but only where she usually stayed. I managed to find some paperwork that held information I didn't understand. I wasn't looking for trade secrets, only a name.

"Nightstone Unlimited." I uttered aloud. I still didn't know where I was but at least now I had a name. I went over random spots all over the building, looking through windows when I had the chance. I still couldn't recognize where I was but at least it wasn't some underground facility in Antarctica.

However, throughout my tour, I kept having this nagging feeling something was happening, that time was running short. Planting a few presents in the right spots, I found Demona had a private suite of her own at the top floor, of course. All that's left now is to go up and say hi.

On the elevator ride to the top, I kept my face hidden underneath the security hat from the camera. There were cameras everywhere; it was a wonder how I managed to stay out of sight for this long. Maybe the zombie workers had subconsciously ignored me so I could take down their captive. Maybe they were helping me along in the hope that they could be freed.

"…Or maybe they're just setting a trap." I said out loud as the car stopped ten floors from the top, doors opened into a large corridor of men and women standing side by side in a firing squad position with automatic blaster trained on me. At least two-dozen men and women armed with automatic laser rifles trained them on me. I was suddenly peppered with green dots from the laser sights.

Beams from a spotlight over their heads illuminated the elevator's insides and silhouetted the security team. Parted down the middle, they let a hulking blue form pass between them. Wings were caped against his chest; blood-red hair stood out even against the darkness of the light.

"You should have escaped when you had the chance, human." He growled.

"So…when'd you find me out?" I said calmly.

"When Sevarius complained his latest lab rat hadn't arrived yet, found you sneaking through the corridors, passing yourself off as a guard and gave orders to wait and see where you went." He laughed.

"I must admit I didn't believe you would be foolish enough to come back after she humiliated you." I don't see it until he taps on them but he's wearing my shades.

"I guess she had me pegged." Said with a shrug. "I _am_ a bit of a masochist."

"Thanks for the glasses by the way. Whenever I see them I can always think back to your pathetic form, cowering on the floor at her feet like a beaten child."

"Just know I'll be getting those back before I leave."

"You won't need them where you're going. Kill him."

Kneeling down just before he gave the order, I leap through the emergency roof hatch. The inside elevator car is riddled with holes of molten steel. I find myself getting higher than I should have just before falling back to the roof of the car face first. Struggling to get back to my feet, I heft myself up only to fall down again with a mean gargoyle just behind me.

Redhead climbed through the opening and got a firm grip on my ankle. Pulled closed towards the fire-lit eyes, I turn over to my back and kick him hard across the forehead but his grip only tightens to near bone-crushing force.

The kick knocked my shades off his face and into the air. Catching them in one hand, I pull a laser pistol from my coat with the other and fire several shots at him but he releases me and drops back down into the car. I kick up to my feet in an instant and not a moment too soon when my previous position is torn through with red beams. The roof of the car is quickly being shredded. Taking out a grenade, I pull the pin and drop one inside.

The shooting ceases long enough for redhead to shout a warning. Leaping to the service ladder, the explosion nearly deafens me in the enclosed space as it shatters the car as though it were made of Lego blocks. The flaming debris blocking the way makes sure no one would be daring enough to leap out after me. Junior shouts something about big momma not being disturbed at any cost. Well that was an invitation if I'd ever heard one.

No guards yet but they would be here soon. It was always fun to exploit an enemy that underestimated you. They hadn't readied any other security details on the following floors, assuming I wouldn't even make it this far but it wasn't completely clear. A group of four came around the corner, looking for the source of the explosion. For all I knew, they were innocent in this but I didn't have time to play Samaritan. I was firing into them before I could think, taking all four down in seconds. I grab up a radio and listen closely to instructions being given.

The other elevators shut down; the few working ones were becoming occupied with well-armed troops. They would coordinate their teams to head up and surround me before closing in for the kill. Junior found me because I took too long to make my move but it takes time to visit all the other elevators in a big building like this.

The press of a button on a remote detonator sent the building into a domino effect of explosions, one after the other. Most were on the ground floor but at least two were close to the middle. Must have been some on their way up. That little stunt would cripple them but only until they could regroup. That feeling begins to take hold of me again; the feeling that something devastating was happening and I can't go fast enough.

I finally make it to Demona's bedchamber but it's empty and hadn't been slept in. There were still more steps to climb so up I went. Soon, I come to a large set of steel doors at the end of a long corridor. The doors open but not without some doing, telling me this must be the right place. I feel like Bruce Willis should be right behind me making wisecracks.

It wasn't long until I came into an edifice within this already hulking tower. Dark obsidian structures of crystal gargoyles stood still, at least for the time being, while corridors curved onward around the center structure. Stepping further into it, I notice the dark of the structure is being illuminated by a brilliant green light.

The corridors and levels of this room spiraled around an erect construct of twisted metal and crystal. Steel and stone melded together in a hideous mesh, creating a sharp point at the tip. It was at least thirty feet high but Demona stood at the base. Between her and the structure was a cauldron, a large, black cauldron, which contents were giving off the eerie green glow.

"…You got to be fucking joking." It was no joke, least of all to her as she muttered incantations in a few different languages. At her feet were three vials of liquid, a knife with a dragon-headed handle, and the black diamond. Once Demona was done chanting, she threw them in, one by one.

"Tears of a child born of malice." One vial filled with clear liquid was emptied in, resulting in the glow becoming more intense. "Blood from a beast as pure as the driven rain." A red liquid was next, deep crimson that seemed to sparkle more than any jewel. The green glow began to lighten, slowly changing to different shades. "Seed from a warrior of life times past." A viscous fluid came after. Didn't take a genus to see that was my little 'contribution' to this madness. As she poured it in, the light from the cauldron became completely white.

"Flesh of the caster," It was then, she plucked up the knife and held out her hand over the bubbling brew, "Given freely." There was a small cry as she sliced off her own hand and let it fall into the concoction. My eyes narrow at the act, not sure what to think but my gut continues to scream at me that whatever was happening had to be stopped.

As soon as the flesh dissolved in the cauldron, the light turned bright red and near blinding. Crackling energy spilled over from the cauldron and soon, erupted into red smoke, billowing from the center and engulfing the entire chamber. Just as suddenly, it all retracted into the form of a giant serpent.

"Who dares summon me?" A deep, booming voice reverberated the very foundations of the Nightstone building. The smoking demon looked down upon Demona who smiled as the gargantuan beast hovered over her. It had itself coiled around the giant crystal.

"I do, my lord. I have summoned you, great lord Saigion, to beg you grant me one wish." She held up the black diamond. "I give this as an offering." The creature regarded her with indifference until she held up the jewel.

"The crystal of souls. It has been many a century since I have last seen it and you have undoubtedly been through much to gain it as and the other pieces of this spell. Your offering is accepted. What would you ask of me?" The crystal floated from her grasp and into the heart of the giant serpent.

"Your power is great, even greater than that of Oberon himself and all his children. My request is this: deliver a plague that will destroy the human race once and for all! Sweep them from this planet like the vermin they are!" Saigion was silent for a long moment, apparently in deep consideration of this request.

"You are fully aware of the consequences of what you ask?" She nodded, unconcerned with her severed hand since it was already growing back.

"Completely. Destroy them all!"

"Even with the crystal of souls, a request of this magnitude will take much power and time. It will take a great deal of energy. I must remain in this realm until it is done." It's eyes closed in a deity's form of concentration. From the cauldron, black electricity sparked and swirled, traveling upwards through the serpents form. There, it gathered in intensity. Stray tendrils of dark lightning struck the marble and stone all around it, disintegrating whatever they touched.

This has to be stopped but what can I do? I can't fight smoke and even if I could, this thing could probably kill me in a million different ways with a thought but he said he needed to concentrate. Time was running out, for everyone. I looked over the edifice, trying to find something that could be used against it.

"The crystal." The serpent was coiled around it. That must be the door and the stuff in the cauldron was the key. Looking it over, it was going to take a lot to being it down. The laser blasters would chip off a few pieces but nothing major. This would take all the grenades I had left and one nasty little detonator pack I thought I might need for a special occasion. No better occasion than saving the world but I have to get close which means getting past Demona.

I throw off the coat, knowing I'll need to move as fast as possible, and set each grenade charge for an appropriate time and prep the det-pack. She can regenerate but it takes time with severe or fatal wounds. A headshot should get me all the time I need and the elevated level gave me near perfect position. The only thing to worry about after that would be the big beastie. Hopefully he'd be too intent on killing all of humanity instead of just little old me.

I set the laser pistol to a maximum charge and move quickly to a point behind and just above her. Let's see if she can get up without a head. I stand up to take aim in plain sight but she seems much to occupied with watching Saigion work. Steadying myself, I squeeze the trigger. The electronic eye on the sight couldn't have given me a better shot. It's just my luck that a bolt of dark energy stuck the ledge beneath my feet.

The shot struck her through the shoulder instead; white-hot energy pierced the blue flesh and left a small crater in the marble floor. With a roar mixed with pain and surprise, she fell to the ground and I fell thirty feet to solid concrete below. I land on my feet and roll with the impact but am still heavily jarred. Came close to breaking both legs and the rubble falling on my head certainly doesn't help.

When I shake my head to clear the painful haze, I turn to see she's on her feet with eyes burning hellfire. Even with a smoking hole the size of a bowling ball in her shoulder and most of her chest, she can still rise.

"You!?" Rrraaagh!!!" I pull the blaster from the rubble but a chunk of falling rock had damaged it beyond use. Demona rushed me, charging on all fours. I reach quickly for the spare pistol but too late. She slams into me with the force of a pick-up truck. Strong arms crush me into a bear hug as the truck surges forward.

"You will not stop me! Not now! Not when I'm so close!" I drop the spare pistol when she rams me into one of the stone gargoyles, crunching it to pieces and almost doing the same to my ribs. She lets go, only to rip and tear at my chest with he one good hand. The other hadn't completely regenerated yet.

As she slashed, there was no blood-splatter or entrails hitting the floor. As my shirt was torn to shreds, it revealed the Nightstone logo on the chest plate of the company battle suit. It looked so nice in the armory I couldn't pass it up.

Once she's distracted, I kick her in the kneecap and duck under the next swipe to send a hard shot to her stomach. She grunts but backhands me in the jaw, leaving three claw marks behind. Even with the suit giving me an extra boost, Demona is fighting on rage and a little insanity from what I can tell. At least this time, I don't feel it quite as much thanks to her very own technology. She aims a three-talon foot for my crotch but I block and stomp on it in mid-kick.

"You dirty mother-!" We both said in unison. Her hand lashed to the collar of the suit to pull me into a head butt. The brow ridges and gold band covering them added an extra amount of force. There's a quick flash as our skulls collide and I fall. Unfortunately there wasn't a helmet to go with the combat suit.

It administers a quick shot of adrenalin to keep me from passing out but Demona is already on top of me. A thrust of her claws, narrowly dodged, pulverized the marble instead. Her style of fighting strangely reminded me of the Scotsman, only a much more deadly version. I knee her in the back, flipping her off me. Energy from the serpent was building even further as lighting strikes were becoming more frequent, lashing out at random spots in this would be temple.

Demona crouched down in a defensive position between the crystal and I. She was determined to keep me at bay until Saigion did his job. I pull a grenade from my belt and drop it to the floor, giving it a hard kick. She's so dead set on killing me, she doesn't see it until it slides past her legs. Demona makes a grab for it with her tail but falls short.

"No!" She turns her back to me in an effort to toss the thing away but in her haste, she missed a key detail. The pin hadn't been pulled. Scooping up her tail in both hands, the suit tenses it's muscle fibers, giving me a big enough hike in strength to swing her down, into the marble hard enough to leave a little Demona-sized indentation in the floor. I spin her around in circles until letting go and throwing her into one of the higher levels. She has to be broken in half.

I don't wait to find out. Removing more grenades from my belt, I prepare to pull the pins when the air becomes alive with red beams of energy. Demona fired on me from the perch where I came in and like an idiot, I'd left the laser rifle there. Her shots were rushed this time around, otherwise she could have hit me. She threw away blasts like a crack addict with Parkinson's.

I took cover behind the crystal structure where she didn't dare fire another shot. Throughout this madness, Saigion never so much as stirred, still locked in amassing the tremendous power to bring death to the entire human race. I made my way back to the front of the structure but Demona had disappeared. The lightning strikes were nearly non-stop and were tearing the temple to pieces.

I took three steps from the structure when I stopped and clutched my chest. My heart felt like it just stopped. My insides curdled and wrenched, forcing me to fall forward to my knees. My guts lurched and came up through my throat as I vomited up at least a pint of blood. It's happening, the plague Demona asked for was happening. Being so close to ground zero must have sped up the process in me.

Blood spilled from my mouth, my nose, ears, and even eyes. I had to take off my glasses because I couldn't see through the red tint. Every part of my body was in pain and I could barely move. I was suddenly flung forward when a laser blast struck me from behind. Welts and puss-filled lesions started to form on my face and hands but through it all, I could hear Demona land just behind me.

"You fool! Did you think one lone human could stop me? That you could prevent this alone? You will go to your grave knowing that had you asked for help from the Maza woman, you could have stopped this." The detective's name was spat out like a bad taste in Demona's mouth but her lips twisted into a cruel smile. "At least you can take solace that you will not be dying alone."

The suit kept the laser blast from going through and she knew it. She wanted to see me suffer. A preview to what the rest of the world would soon have to endure. It was a struggle to breathe now as my organs started to liquefy and lungs fill with fluid. Tumors clotted my body, which began to shake and violently convulse. Mind-numbing pain floods every nerve as I turn over on my back.

Now-brittle bones crack and break from that small bit of movement. A shaky hand reaches into the front pocket of the chest plate. She stands over me, her head tilted back in a laugh of triumph. She knows she's won, that the world of man will soon come crashing down in a torrent of pain and anguish. She's looking forward to the sight of humans dying in the streets so much, she fails to keep her attention in the now. Otherwise she might have seen me pull the detonator remote.

The rapid beeping from the det-pack could barely be heard until it sounded off in unison with the timed grenades in a harmonious eruption of fire and sound. Demona's eyes shot from the detonator to the explosives set at the crystal's base.

"Nooooo!!!" We both felt the explosion before we heard it. Maybe it was the other way around since there was an ear-splitting thunderclap, followed by high-pitched ringing that muffled everything else. The shockwave from all the explosives being discharged at once sent us both flying through the air. All I could do was close my eyes and bear it, the numerous plagues that infected me made me completely immobile.

The base of the crystal structure shattered. All at once, the dark lightning ceased and Saigion's face contorted in pain. A hellish scream poured forth from the deity's mouth, emitting a shockwave that put the previous explosion to shame. It annihilated the stone gargoyles and much of the marble pillars. All the dark energy retracted into the smoke form, turning it pitch black. The black cloud swirled into an onyx tornado. Saigion's scream continued until the very moment it was sucked back into the cauldron.

The pain of a thousand plagues began to subside. My intestines no longer felt as though they were about to implode. My limbs still felt heavy but one look at my hands revealed they were lesion and tumor free. While my bones had been restored to their former strength, some were still broken. The agony required just to breath suggested my ribs got the worst of it but I could stand.

Getting up, I see the crystal structure in all its former twisted glory had fallen on top of its creator. A pool of blood circled a single blue, four-fingered hand that jutted out from the toppled tower. Even though it hurt like hell, even though I couldn't hear myself, I laughed. More like chuckled since that was all I could manage but I stood over the hand with my own smug grin for a change.

"…Ding…dong…the bitch is dead." I pondered cutting off the hand and keeping it for a souvenir but I've had my absolute fill of gargoyles for one lifetime. I have a seat on part of the crystal still on top of her and kick the hand for good measure. Instantly, the hand grabs at my foot. I come close to jumping out of my skin as the limb begins to claw at the floor.

"You. Have got. To be shitting me! Nothing could have survived that!" I said, starring in astonished disbelief. "Oh fucking fine. We'll call it a draw." I said, waving a hand at the limb. I hope all gargoyles aren't this tough to kill. Still, I saved the human race so I suppose that's something. Shaking my head, I limp for the exit.

Whoever said whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger had never been hit with a combination of Ebola, Malaria, and Leprosy after being beaten and sexually tortured. My body was on its last legs, extremely close to giving out and I still had one pissed off son and a few dozen security teams to go through with no more weapons and no more explosives. I could put money on orders being sent to kill on sight.

"Fuck it." I said with a deep sigh. I never could make a plan work at the end but it looks like I won't be able to improvise my way out this time. Going through the exit, I head for the roof access door instead of the stairs. I get a glimpse of my face in the glass of an office door. I look like I just went twenty round with Jason Voorhees.

The numerous footsteps of the security teams echoed through the stairwells. No doubt my bombs attributed to their late arrival. Set a few claymores in the right places and people are sure to watch their step but the ruse was up and they knew no other traps had been set. Now they marched full force. Junior was likely leading the charge, giving no thought to how many men he'd lose in the process. Like mother, like son.

I collapsed twice on the way to the roof but I was in no rush. Made me a bit sad I forgot my glasses though. The men were right on my heels, bursting through the doorway by the time I'd made it halfway to the ledge. Junior landed in front of them, looking angrier than anyone had ever seen him. Some of the staff kept a far distance even as they trained their weapons on me but big blue held up a hand to hold their fire.

"You're going to pay, human." He rumbled, literally shaking with rage. "You will take months to die and I'll make sure your pretty friend is here to see your every moment of agony." I could hardly hear him, stepping closer to the ledge and looking down. Even if no one here called the police, only a fool wouldn't notice all the bombs going off in this place so our party had attracted a rather large crowd of spectators and cops.

Junior was still lobbing threats even as I stepped up on the ledge. I reach into my back pocket, surprised to find my cigarettes still there. Opening my black skull Zippo, I light one up and take a deep drag. I breathe the smoke from my lungs, blowing it in their direction as I turn to face them. It's almost checkout time as the world begins to go dark. The sirens and voices are distant as I imagine what the news report will look like. Probably just say there was a huge accident but everything's under control. Figures.

Still, I may not have been able to kill Demona but as far as going out with a blast is concerned, I couldn't have done any better. At least I can go out knowing Melissa's safe. She'll be pissed at me but…I think she'll be better off. It makes me smile that she's the last thing I think of before the world fades away.

_So, any last words_ I pause.

"…I love you 'Lissa…" Wind rushes over my skin as I fall off the edge.

Several Hours Later

It starts the same way every time, every single time. The darkness all around me, in all directions. I try to feel my way around like a blind man frantically groping the surroundings, but there were no other enhanced senses to compensate for the loss of sight. I can't see, can't hear, can barely even think but I have to stave off the feeling of panic even as it grinds and gestates in the pit of my stomach, attempting to settle in my head. On my knees, feeling frantically for anything but it's as if my senses have all become numb. It's as if I've fallen in a pit of oil but so much worse.

I reach into the nothingness, knowing there no one there to help me but just then, slender but strong fingers clench around my wrist and pull. I can hardly tell what's happening but there's a dim light through the dismal cloud. Whoever it is, they can't get me out by their strength alone, faltering as the murky tentacles try to hold me back. I grab hold of this life line with both hands and pull myself out.

"Remo." A distance but familiar voice called.

"…Melissa?"

"Wake up."

"I don't understand."

"You have to wake up." With her help, I pull myself closer and closer towards the brightening light. "Wake up you big jerk!" For a moment, I feel like someone just took my picture using the sun for a flashbulb when I open my eyes. The radiance dimmed down to that of ceiling fixtures and white tiles. A steady beeping noise was supplemented with the sound of someone crying. Warm teardrops fell against my wrist as someone held their head close to my hand.

"Wake up Remo." A sobbing voice said. "You have to wake up. Don't you dare die on me you big jerk." Melissa's hand gripped my own as I lay in the hospital bed.

"…I save your life," The sound of my gravely voice makes her jump, "Nearly die a few dozen times…and this is the thanks I get?" Her eyes were red from crying but she smiled. It was strange to see someone, even her, shed tears for me but after everything that's happened, I think I can bear it just this once.

"Welcome back." She planted a small kiss on my hand.

"Good to be back, and good to see you're okay." I glance around the hospital room, very relieved to see daylight peeking through a side window. "How'd I get here? Last thing I remember was taking a swan dive off the top of a skyscraper."

"When I told Detective Maza everything that happened, she put in a call to some friends. One of them with red skin swooped in and saved your dumb ass. You almost didn't make it. Said it was a miracle since you were falling so fast. Should have been street pizza." I pause a moment in thought and manage a snort.

"Good old detective. I do believe I owe her an apology. She was on my side all along." Just then, Melissa's face saddened.

"Not so much now. The cops have a lot of questions about the club and your apartment burning down, about where you've been for the last few days, and especially about what happened at the Nightstone building." The door to my right opened up and Detective Maza let herself in.

"They said it was a war zone and the CEO, Dominique Destine, is refusing to let the police conduct an investigation. Something about a weapon's test gone wrong." She said.

"I'll just bet." I said with a small grin.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell us what happened in there?" I look between the two of them and take a breath.

"As a matter of fact, I think I will." So I gave them the whole story, explaining why Demona wanted the stone and needed me. I leave out the gory bits about the rape but Melissa is stunned nonetheless. The detective offers her sympathies but I shrug like it were no big deal. Once I reach the portion about Saigion and the attempted genocide, the two ladies have grabbed chairs and hanging on every word.

"Then I just…fell. I figured I wasn't going to make it but at least you were safe." I said, turning eyes on Mel who shook her head.

"You shouldn't have done that. Not for me."

"Oh please. I enjoyed it. Most fun I've had in years and it was worth it to see the look on the garg-bitch's face when the bombs went off." A heavy silence hit the room a moment as I allowed them to take all the information in. Maza was the first to speak.

"So how are you now?"

"I'm pretty sure when then big snake disappeared, all the sicknesses he put on me went with him so I should be okay, meaning not contagious. I'll live." Melissa gave my hand a squeeze.

"That's not what she meant." I was suddenly bombarded with looks of concern and worry from both of them.

"Like I said, I'll live. No one could be normal again after going through something like this but I was never normal to begin with." I shrug. "And take that look off your face detective. It's just too weird to believe you would care about me."

"Hey, just because I bust your chops doesn't mean I want to see you locked up again or dead." I raise an eyebrow.

"You sure as shit could've fooled me. As often as you come by the club just to spite me? I'd have thought you had me under surveillance twenty-four seven."

"Someone's got to keep you on the straight and narrow, otherwise you end up doing something stupid, like robbing a warehouse for instance." She had me there.

"Speaking of which…where exactly do we stand?"

"Armed robbery, evading arrest, suspect in an arson case, and threatening a police officer just to name a few and this isn't even counting the Nightstone building. It's enough to put you away for life if one pursued this case." She gave a dramatic pause, which had Melissa looking more and more hopeless as she counted off every charge. "But, it would be pretty heinous to put you away after you saved the world. We can prove that the fires set weren't your fault and there's no concrete evidence linking you to the warehouse."

"Besides my rooftop confession." I add in with a forced smirk.

"Ms. Destine," She continued, "Isn't cooperating with the PD so chances are we won't have any evidence of you there either."

"Provided of course, the good detective doesn't turn me in. This must be a hell of a bust for you. Why in the hell are you tuning it down?"

"Despite what you may think, I don't put my career ahead of doing the right thing. Your intentions were noble even if everything else was just one big foolhardy stunt after another. I'm willing to let it go." Her eyes hardened a bit as her voice took on a serious tone. "However, you ever point a gun at me again, I'll burn you down and have you making license plates at Riker's. We clear?" I smile, extending a hand. She gives it a gentle shake.

"Crystal." For the first time in what seemed like forever, I breathed an easy sigh of relief. Detective Maza got up to leave. "Oh, wait. There's one more thing." She stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Tell your friend MacDuff I want a rematch."

The End

In Remo's voice

Next time on Gaygoyles: The Xenhon Chronicles

Remo and Melissa are trapped in a cavern with the entrance caved in. They both sit down to the fading light of an electric lamp.

Melissa: What if they don't find us?

Remo: They will.

Melissa: How do you know?

Remo: I just know.

Melissa: What do you think will happen after that?

Remo: No idea, but I got a feeling it's going to be one hell of a ride.

In the grand Hall of the Illuminati, the prominent members are seated at a round table. Among them, Remo stands abruptly.

"Have none of you heard what Xanatos said? The ring must be destroyed!" MacBeth, seated opposite, crosses his arms.

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?!"

Chief Maria Chavez: "Listen Xenhon, you're a good man and a damn good fighter. I'd like to bring you on the force but you're a loose canon."

Remo: "Hey, just because I'm not on the streets anymore don't mean I'm your personal snitch!"

Melissa: "Remo…I'm pregnant."  
Remo: faints

Elisa: "Remo, I'd like you to meet special agent Jack Bauer."

The two men shake hands

Goliath and Remo clasp hands.

Goliath: "I would have gone with you to the end. Into the very fires of Avalon."

Remo: "I know. Take care of Melissa and the baby for me."

In a warehouse, Remo is seen back flipping out of the way of a Mack truck before it crashes.

Next, we cut to him charging at a mysterious foe, yelling a loud battle cry. Random building explodes just as they collide.

Cut to Elisa grabs him by the collar of his coat.

Eliza: "You killed six cops!?"

Remo: "I had no choice!"

Standing face to face with Jericho, Remo spins a knife around in his fingers while the distracted garg gets face palmed by his other hand.

He stands in the midst of Avalon's court, surrounded by all its creatures. He walks up to Oberon. Remo: "Maybe your kids aren't the ones that need to be humbled."

Oberon: "Insolent mortal."

Cut to a rooftop where a scared Melissa is holding a gun on two clones.

Remo #1: "I'm the real Remo!"

Remo #2: "No, _I'm_ the real Remo!"

Melissa: "…I...I don't know which is which."

Remo #1: "Look in your heart 'Lissa. You _know_ who I am."

Taking a few panicked breaths, she closes her eyes and fires.

He's seen slamming Xanatos against a wall as dozens of guards aim laser rifles at his back. "Tell me the truth! I want to know who set me up!"

He's sitting in a chair across from Dr. Phil on stage.

Dr. Phil: "You need to stop loving to look cool for others and start learning to love you for you!"

Remo stands and kicks over a chair while walking off stage with tears in his eyes.

Dr. Phil: "You're only hurting yourself Remo!"

Remo: "My mom hated me."

Mysterious Stranger: "No. She loved you more than words could say. That's why she _had_ to leave you in that dumpster. To save you."

Reaper gang member: "You left us to fend for ourselves! So we did."

Remo: "I made a mistake."

Reaper Gang Member: "Fuck you, Remo."

Psychiatrist: "Remo, there is another personality lurking inside your head and he's stronger than anything I've ever seen. You've got to get help before it completely takes over."

Remo: "Look, if I'm crazy, just say so."

Brooklyn: "You don't have to do this alone."

Remo: "Yes, I do!"

Lexington: "Why?"

Remo: "It's fate. People I get close to have a habit of dying."

Strange Creature: "You made a deal. He'll come for your soul."

The creature touches Remo's hand, leaving a black mark.

Stranger Creature: "You're time's up."

Cut away to Remo fighting hand-to-hand with dozens of Reaper thugs. There's a flash of light as one moves with super speed to knock him across the room.

He jumps on to the rail of an escaping helicopter. As they fly high over the city, he pulls a pistol and shoots out the tail rotor. As the chopper begins to spin out of control, he lets go into a freefall just as the chopper explodes.

Cut back to Melissa and Remo stuck in the cavern.

Melissa: "Well, it's nice to have something to look forward to."

Remo: "…Indeed it is."

Sorry, just felt like adding a bit more. Hope you enjoyed the story and for more after The End. Hope you enjoyed this little fic. For more on Mrs. Morgan's character's and writing, visit her website: 


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